Grandma

I took the kids to see Grandma frequently. After she had been away from dad for about three weeks, she started to gain clarity of thought and be more wakeful which made us wonder if he had been drugging her. When she was with dad she would often fall asleep in the middle of a conversation, but now it was like we had turned back the hands of time and she was getting younger. She missed dad and she missed her old apartment. My aunt arranged to have Meals on Wheels come each day just so Grandma would have a lunch time visitor. Grandma hated the food, but she would drink the milk and eat the roll they brought each day. I asked, “So what is wrong with the food?”

“They bring casserole all the time. I don't like things that are all mixed together. If they bring vegetables they are overcooked and mushy. I like fresh vegetables.”

One evening the kids and I took her out to dinner. The only thing she would order was a fresh tomato. I had to go back and ask the waiter if the cook could find a tomato that was not too ripe and slice it for her. She was so happy with her plate of tomatoes. Taking her out to dinner was time consuming because she had to stop and talk to every child she saw. She was a life long teacher. We loved seeing how well she related with children.

She enjoyed playing bingo with the other residents and was adjusting to her new life. One morning as she was getting ready for a funeral, she felt a terrific pain in her hip, her leg gave out, and she fell to the floor. Thankfully, she was in a place where the staff checked up on the residents and was soon found. She was transported to the hospital and diagnosed with a broken hip.

She had surgery to repair her hip. The doctors informed us that she had an aortic aneurysm. They felt she was too old to survive the surgery to repair it. They said that eventually it would rupture and she would die quickly. We worried about this, but since there was nothing that could be done to repair it, it fell into the category of “help us accept the things we can not change.”

One night after I’d returned home late from the hospital, I went up to check on my youngest daughter. The teenagers had gotten the little ones to bed. My eight year old daughter had kicked off her covers. The moonlight through the window spilled over her golden hair, her slender legs, feet, arms, and delicate hands; the sight brought out a feeling of intense protectiveness for this child I so adored. She was eight years old – older than I had been when I was sexually abused and beaten. I looked at her tiny limbs and wondered how anyone could look at the body of a small child and see anything but a dear sweet child. How could anyone look at what I was seeing and feel sexual arousal? I couldn’t understand it. I carefully tucked her covers around her and said a silent prayer of thanks that she was unscathed by the evil of sexual abuse. I talked to my kids on a regular basis about good touch/bad touch. I felt confident that they could and would come to me if anyone touched them inappropriately.

Mentally, I was still dealing with the trauma of my own abuse, but still lacked time to get into counseling. Grandma was soon moved back to the assisted care center where her apartment was located. One side of the complex was a hospital – which was where she was moved. I called her one day to ask what they had brought her for dinner. She said, I don’t know what it is, but it looks like cooked grass.”

“Do you want me to bring you a chicken breast with steamed vegetables and a sliced tomato?”

“Oh would you? I’d love that.”

When I got there, I asked, “What do you eat on the nights I don’t bring dinner?”

“I just ask them for another can of ensure.”

“Grandma, you look so pretty today.” She was in a lovely pink nightgown and had just had her hair done.

“Mary was up earlier; she took me to get my hair done. Did you know they have a salon in the hospital?”

“I didn’t know that. I’m glad she took you. I know how much you love to get your hair done.”

I helped Grandma into a wheelchair and we (my two youngest 3D childen and I) took her for a walk. She wanted to go see her neighbors. We walked over to that wing of the building and joined her neighbors in the great room and watched the news. There was a story that the schools were facing a substitute teacher shortage. Grandma who taught school until she was 86 years old said, “I am going to get out of here and go sign up.” I chuckled because I didn’t doubt that she would do it. Her mind seemed as sharp as ever now that she was a way from dad. “What do you think your dad is doing?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “He got so mean, and what he said to Rose was so awful that I can’t go see him again. You know he was violent to us when we were kids. I guess he just got mean again.”

“I want to see him,” she said.

“I know you do, but he said he doesn’t want to see any of us.”

“I guess you are right. Did you know that I am going home tomorrow?” she asked.

“No, you are going home on Sunday. Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, “because I think I am going home tomorrow.”

“Sunday, Grandma; I promise.”

“Well, okay.”

We wheeled her back to her room. I helped her into bed, gave her a kiss goodnight, and said, “I love you Grandma. I’ll be back up on Sunday to see you.”

“I love you too. Thanks for coming up.”

The next morning my cousin called me, “Grandma died early this morning.”

“No! I was just up there. She looked so good. She can't be gone.”

She had awoken with a terrific pain in her chest. She called out to her room mate. Help arrived quickly, but the aneurism had ruptured. They gave her morphine, called my uncle to come quickly, and she died within fifteen minutes.

She was right when she said she was going home tomorrow. She died only a few days before what would have been her 65th wedding anniversary. I know she was old. I know her body had issues, but her mind was sharp and I wanted her to stay. I missed her so badly. I couldn’t believe the beautiful, bright grandmother I had put my arms around only hours before was gone. She was the most important adult in my life. She helped me be a better mother and a better person. She was the best role model, and I was thankful I got to have her for as many years as I did. She had said she was going to get out of there and go sign up to teach. I hope there are children for her to teach in heaven.

I still miss her everyday. So often, I long to pick up the phone and say, "Grandma." I send her messages in thoughts and prayers every day. I hope she gets them.