I am mourning my Grandma (Cecilia) in the weirdest way. I find myself overwhelmed with tears of joy and overwhelming love when memories of her come to mind. The culture of Grandma's house, and who she was, and who I was when I was with her. Like a reflection.
I mourned the day my Grandpa died and she had to be alone after all the years that he was her protector and provider. I wanted her to come live with us but our home was not set up to be of comfort to her. I was so relieved that my Uncle would move in to be in the home with her.
I mourned the day she had another stroke and had to be in the hospital, soon to be forced into a home for her protection. An institution traded for the function that once was met in a relationship.
I mourned that she was suffering from dementia then and that she may not be her full self anymore, or I would not be me to her either.
But, now I am not sad with pain. I am sad that I cannot see her, but when I see her in my mind it brings joy. I can imagine her in heaven having a hootenanny or something, sitting out back with the birds, gardening in flourishing greens, and herself young and beautiful again. I believe she is set free. Free from the confines of old age and arthritic bones, free from mind fog. She is clear, full, glowing, and under Jesus now. Set free. Not to rest forevermore, but to live forevermore.
Saturday, August 5, 2017
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
An Ode to My Grandma
My Grandma died today. She was eighty-five. She passed in the most graceful way. She went to sleep and woke up in heaven.
My Grandma was my favorite person. She was full of grace, spark, beauty, and gentleness. She could ream out her sons but in the most playful and gentle way. She always had a joyful spirit. My Grandma was so naturally beautiful. She took care of herself and all those around her, and fiercely.
When I was young, I lived just two blocks from Grandma and I would ride the path to her house often. My Grandma was my friend. She brought me along to join her in housework, making beds. She listened. She praised my coloring skills and declared I was an artist. She encouraged me in my growing womanhood. She was full of life and excitement.
One of the last times I saw my Grandma, we had just moved closer and taken my three kids (at the time) to meet her, and she was so so happy to hug them all. She was laughing over and over, "Imagine that!" Full of wonder and thankfulness that she lived to see her grand-babies. She never had thought she would!
I remember so many lovey things about Grandma's house. I mourned the day it was gone- the end of an era. I remember the sweet smell of raw tobacco and instant coffee at her counter, where we sat and chatted. I remember her garden and meals with fresh salads of tomato and green onion that she had picked. I remember the canned peas and fruit cookies in the cupboard too. And, no one can forget her chimed doorbell.
Sigh, I am a little in shock I suppose but all I remember is sweetness about Grandma. The jewellery in her room, her voice, her short hair, her slippers, her eye wrinkles... More memories, on top of memories.
I loved my Grandma so much that I named my daughter after her; Cecilia.
I remember one time she had had a stroke and then no one could get a hold of her. When they did finally reach her, she had told them that she had a dream that she wasn't going to die so she went to the Fall Fair. Stubborn and beautiful. That was my Grandma.
I have heard the tone of her voice in my children's words since they were little. Maybe I look for it. I see her face in my own. I am sad I will not see her for a long while but her legacy will live on in the threads that are passed through our family.
I love you Grandma.
My Grandma was my favorite person. She was full of grace, spark, beauty, and gentleness. She could ream out her sons but in the most playful and gentle way. She always had a joyful spirit. My Grandma was so naturally beautiful. She took care of herself and all those around her, and fiercely.
When I was young, I lived just two blocks from Grandma and I would ride the path to her house often. My Grandma was my friend. She brought me along to join her in housework, making beds. She listened. She praised my coloring skills and declared I was an artist. She encouraged me in my growing womanhood. She was full of life and excitement.
One of the last times I saw my Grandma, we had just moved closer and taken my three kids (at the time) to meet her, and she was so so happy to hug them all. She was laughing over and over, "Imagine that!" Full of wonder and thankfulness that she lived to see her grand-babies. She never had thought she would!
I remember so many lovey things about Grandma's house. I mourned the day it was gone- the end of an era. I remember the sweet smell of raw tobacco and instant coffee at her counter, where we sat and chatted. I remember her garden and meals with fresh salads of tomato and green onion that she had picked. I remember the canned peas and fruit cookies in the cupboard too. And, no one can forget her chimed doorbell.
Sigh, I am a little in shock I suppose but all I remember is sweetness about Grandma. The jewellery in her room, her voice, her short hair, her slippers, her eye wrinkles... More memories, on top of memories.
I loved my Grandma so much that I named my daughter after her; Cecilia.
I remember one time she had had a stroke and then no one could get a hold of her. When they did finally reach her, she had told them that she had a dream that she wasn't going to die so she went to the Fall Fair. Stubborn and beautiful. That was my Grandma.
I have heard the tone of her voice in my children's words since they were little. Maybe I look for it. I see her face in my own. I am sad I will not see her for a long while but her legacy will live on in the threads that are passed through our family.
I love you Grandma.
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