At age 44 one would think that I would be completely grown up. But, up until last week, I was still able to hold on to a small part of being a child. Last week my grandmother passed away. It was not a surprise...as terrible as it may sound to say it...it was actually a relief. I had said good-bye to her many months ago and accepted the fact that she was no longer with us. She had been under hospice care for almost 2 years and it was time for her suffering to end.
It was actually hard to be anything but happy FOR HER. If I could put in an order for my life ahead of time, I think my order would be similar to her life, with the exception of her being without my grandfather for the last 10 years. They were happily married for 60 something years before he passed away. She was almost 93 years old, and had been active up until the last 3 or 4 years. She had four boys, the youngest of whom is my dad, who loved/love her dearly. During the past 2 years, she has never been in a nursing home. They all took time about staying a couple of days with her at a time. She and my grandfather both were very good people and lived life the way it's supposed to be lived. I have no question as to where she is spending her eternity.
So the sadness that comes is for our family, and as for my personal part of the sadness, a feeling of loss that includes such a large part of my life. The part of my life that allowed me to still feel like a child while being at their house, because it was the same as it had been through the most of my childhood until now.
Neither she nor my grandfather (Maw Maw and Paw Paw) were overly affectionate people. I remember a few times being told 'I love you', but not often. But the actual words were not necessary, I knew they loved all of us. My grandfather was called "Shorty", but it was because he was such a big man. When you did get a hug from him, it felt like he completely closed you in, and there was no question that the love was there. Maw Maw read to me often. I remember her reading from a book about a farm...'it's suppertime on the farm, but where is Farmer Brown?' Christmas time meant shopping for a Sunday coat with Maw Maw, then watching her wrap it up to save to be opened on Christmas Day. I have so many memories that reinforce how much they both loved our family.
They believed in hard work, especially Maw Maw, and going to their home usually meant helping out in some way. I don't think I ever peeled a potato the correct way. I always took off too much potato with the skin, which was wasteful. I could watch every move she made while she cooked, and I still can't get things I cook to turn out exactly the same way. My mind will forever hold pictures of the two of them working in the garden, cutting corn off the cob, breaking beans, and shelling peas. I loved the fresh corn, especially over warm biscuits with sliced tomatoes. I learned a lot about a lot of things...some of which I hope to never use. If I had to, I could wring a chicken's neck, scald it and pull the feathers off to get it ready to cut up and fry. But, I also know the sweetest corn to plant, and how to cook it so that it tastes wonderful with those biscuits and fresh tomatoes.
There were expectations that simply could not be questioned at their house. There was no gray area...but don't begin to think that I mean that as a bad thing. There is a comfort that comes from knowing what's expected. There is a security in consistency...in knowing that things are either right or wrong...no maybe's. There was a moral strength in both of them that is no longer found in very many people, and I'm so glad I had that example. I know that I already have more gray in my life than they ever even thought about, but my hope is that I can clear out that gray and give my children and grandchildren that same security I had of having two choices...right or wrong...no maybe's.
I suppose this is a good place to stop, I've rambled somewhat and still have not expressed things in the way that I wanted. I'll finish by simply saying that I will miss her so very much...
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