My grandmother passed away on Saturday. She had been ill and hospitalized since the first week of November. Fortunately my sister and I were able to go home and spend a few days with her before she passed. We got there on Friday and by Monday she was unresponsive. But she knew we were there. And she knew what was happening to her. She was 91 and with the exception of an incident in March, she spent only the last 10 days of her life incapacitated and hospitalized.
We were unusually close to my grandmother. Maybe because my mom was an only child. Maybe because my grandfather passed away almost 20 years ago and my dad left more than 10 years ago.
She taught me the Lord's Prayer and the books of the Bible. She would let me go to Sunday School with her because I was too shy to go to my own class. She used to give us baths in this big washtub in her basement. Her yard, which was probably small in reality, seemed big and rimmed with trees to play in.
As a child I spent what seemed like every Friday night at her house. In the morning she would wake me up by sitting and bouncing on the side of the bed and saying "Wakey, wakey. Eggs and bakey!" At the time I hated it. But, most mornings I find myself saying the same thing to my kids.
I have so many wonderful memories of her and grandpa. All the Christmas Eve services we attended together. Her biscuits and gravy, chicken and noodles, fudge and Divinty, strawberry jelly and apple pie. Visiting her sisters on their farms in southern Illinois. They always referred to their husbands as 'their men' and they'd get tickled about something and laugh harder than I had ever seen before or since. My obsession with porch swings started in her backyard.
One of my most vivid memories is her rocking me and singing two specific lullabies. My sister and I remember them to this day. They were sorrowful stories about orphans but somehow they were very soothing when she sang them. I remember curling up inside a flowery, pink and white satin blanket she kept in her hall closet. I could recognize its scent to this day.
When I was in college she would sent a note and $20 every week. I don't know how she knew but that money always came at the perfect time. After college the notes kept coming, but then she would simply write "You are doing a great job" or "Hug those babies for me."
She was loved by a lot of people and if you would've asked me a year ago why, I would've been hard pressed to explain exactly why. But in the past couple of weeks I've had a lot of time to think about it and I think it is because she didn't take anything for granted - her family, her friends, her church, God, her health, a beautiful day. She wasn't extravagant, judgemental or critical. I never saw her buy anything she didn't need - unless she was getting it for us. She loved her daughter, granddaughters and great-grandkids more than anything. I think you could say she lived well, with purpose and gratitude. I don't know many people who can say that.
I called home most nights when I got the kids in the bathtub. I knew they'd stay put and busy long enough to chat. She'd always answer the phone "Hi Doll!" and when I hung up she'd say "Give 'em hugs." Sometimes I did. Sometimes I didn't. But it will be a long time before I'll be able to hug them without thinking of her.
Sunday morning I told Jake. I didn't want to go into any details but I didn't want to avoid it altogether so I simply said she died. "That's OK," he said, "because then she'll be in Heaven." Later that day we were outside and he looked up at our beautiful blue sky, waved and said, "Hello Meams!"
Without sounding like a cliche I have to believe that Heaven was created for people like her. And I'm blessed to have her watching over us.
