Prologue: This blog post has been sitting-half finished- as a draft for MONTHS. Partly because, as we travel to different areas, my internet connection isn't good enough to do much on the computer, I'm busy, I constantly drive long distances....but I think if I'm honest it's partly because it's just so dang hard. Most of the time I choose not to think about the fact that my grandma isn't sitting in the chair near my grandpa's chair anymore...
With My Soul
This summer my grandma was diagnosed with ovarian cancer that had metastasized. No treatment. Just make her as comfortable as possible.
I was extremely close to my grandma. She was like a second mom to me. My mom is great, I just got the best of both! She came to help me with 3 of my 4 newborn babies. I'm very grateful for all the time I had with her as I know most people don't have their grandma at age 41. But man I miss her! I haven't lived close to my grandparents for a long while but we were always close where it mattered. In our hearts.
In so many instances, grandparents have so much to give. When they were the parents, when their own children were young, they had all the stresses of that life. Earning enough money to keep things going, working full time (I know my grandpa worked 2 and 3 jobs at times!), keeping the house clean, making the kids mind their manners. Being a parent is stressful. It's the best and hardest job in the world I believe. If you're doing it well.
When grandkids come along you have one job really. To love them. It's not your responsibility to make sure they eat their broccoli. You get to give them ice cream. You don't have to make the hard decisions and discipline nearly like you do as a parent (sure, grandparents should come alongside parents and support them in their responsibilities, but it's just that. Support. Not your full-time responsibility.)
Anywho, my grandparents embraced this role. I'm quite sure the grandma I remember is not the same as the mom my mom remembers. Does that make sense? My mom was the baby of 3 kids. All born within about 5 years. Three kids in five years. My mom likely remembers an exhausted mom. One who didn't have much time to be silly or just sit and talk. While we didn't do that often, it did sometimes happen.
I remember taking a walk with her one time and she taught me how to "skip a stick" (you make it skip as you kind of push it along).
I remember her driving me to church once. My grandpa always drove. Always. She had a license but she didn't drive. And she drove in the grass. I apparently reported this to my grandpa. We laughed about it til...the end.
I remember that she knew when I asked for crushed ice, I likely had strep throat.
I remember that my friends and I would build tents out of her chairs and sheets in the living room on Saturday. Her one day to clean (she worked full time)
I remember that when we went out to eat, I would sit reeeeal close to her when her salad came and say "we share, right Grandma?" Funny, I don't ever remember her asking for my food?
I remember when we moved a thousand miles away when I was 13, it was the hardest thing ever. I'd spent every weekend with my grandparents since I was an infant. (That is, during the times we didn't live with them-which we did for many of the years.)
I remember her standing at the kitchen counter always cutting a piece of fruit and offering it to me.
I remember that if I hated what was for dinner, she would make me macaroni and cheese.
I remember when I had my first baby, she came the day before. When we came home from the hospital and the baby wouldn't stop crying (I think she was broke!?) my grandma and grandpa sent me and my exhausted husband to bed. I was protesting that I would need to feed the baby. She won. Best sleep I had for another year.
I remember when the screaming baby was screaming (get the theme here?) and she was trying to help me and give guidance without bossing me around, she said "She's your baby, Cara." (I had asked if I could give her mylicon to try to make her stop crying.)
I remember when she pulled out of our driveway when Lindsay (my first) was a week old. I was terrified and emotional and...terrified!
(for the record, my mom would have loved to have been there for the baby's birth but my brothers were in school and, see? She was the mom! She had to do what HAD to be done.)
This past summer was the hardest thing ever. Harder than when we moved away. Harder than when she would visit and then have to leave. Harder than when they pulled out of my driveway and left me with this baby that I didn't know if I could take care of all by myself (Harold had to work).
Because this time, she needed me. This time it was me taking care of her. This time it was me saying goodbye to my grandma. My grandma. Ovarian cancer (any cancer) sucks. It made her waste away right in front of our eyes. It tried to take away her dignity. It didn't win, but it sure gave a heck of a fight. Watching her lay there in the hospital bed at home, with oxygen constantly motoring into her frail body (where did that frail come from? She was never frail before?). Watching her heart beat like mad through her chest...how do you reconcile that? I was blessed to be able to spend several days helping to care for her right at the end. I've beat myself up many times and wished I could go back to redo my leaving. I left a few days before she passed away. We didn't know how long it would be. Hospice seemed to think it would take longer. I couldn't stay forever. But I wish I'd have stayed a little longer.
It's been 7 months since the horrible day my cousin's wife texted me to let me know exactly when she passed into the arms of Jesus. In that time, I have never once grieved for my grandma. She's fine. It's us. My grandpa in particular. The thought of him sitting there alone. It was months before I could talk to him without crying-and trying to hide it so as not to make him feel worse. In those 7 months there has been a Thanksgiving, her birthday, Christmas, and their 68th anniversary. And we are coming up on a wedding. I know I'm blessed to have had so much time, but...
On a happy note, my grandpa, while going through a stack of papers looking for an address or something, found a little jotted note "It will all be worth it when we see Jesus". I think that's the legacy I'd most like to remember her by. Faith. Life wasn't always easy for her and I'm sure I didn't know the HALF of it. She never complained! Seriously, I wonder how long she had been in serious pain before anyone knew? Marriage wasn't always easy. Whose is? Motherhood? That's some hard stuff. But, she kept her faith and finished her race. Love you grandma!
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