Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Letter to My Last Grandma

Me in a dress that Grandma made back in the 70s. It was the competitive square dance outfit for my aunt. The men had matching shirts.
Grandma,

Mom just told me you are likely going to be dying this week. Your whole life and it comes down to this. I wonder if you're ready. I think you must be. From what Mom says, you can't be comfortable right now.  Jesus has you in His arms and He's going to take good care of you. I say I find peace in that, and I do, but that doesn't mean I haven't broken down into tears seven times already in the past 50 minutes. Did you know I had to try three times to enter the cafe, this morning, to have breakfast. I'd walk in and start crying so I'd have to leave, recover, renter, cry again, leave...

Grandma, I wasn't planning on you leaving me when I gave you a good-bye hug back in March. That was a see-you-later hug, not my forever on this earth farewell. I don't know that it would've been any better had I known or if I even would've done things much differently.

I am so grateful I got all that time with you my last month with you. Almost every week we spent 48 hours together and I loved it. I really loved it. I loved getting to know you and seeing you for who you are beyond family gatherings. I love you so much. It's a bummer you were never on Wheel of Fortune or Jeopardy. You were boss at those!

One of the moments I'll remember forever was when we had a conversation at four o' clock in the morning when everyone else was asleep, even Grandpa. You told me you wanted out andyou pounded your fists. This wasn't what I think you had in my mind but, my wonderful loving Grandmother, you're going to break out soon. You're going to break away from this limiting body that has been slowly letting you down.

Even though I say I'm ready, I'm still a complete wreck. I've been crying as I write this entire letter to you. You're my Grandma! I don't want to say good-bye. But I also don't want you to be in pain like you are right now. I love you so much.

I'll never forget all the hundreds and hundreds of hats you made to keep heads warm. You were always knitting a hat when I saw you. I loved going to your house, as a child, and asking if you had made any bread. You usually had. Remember when Ian and I went to your house a few times and taught us how to decorate cakes! The stump cake was the best! And you had all of those frosting animals and mushrooms you had created. You're such a talented lady. Oh! And your sugar eggs. Those are incredible. Thank you for making them for me to sell to raise money to go to the Dominican Republic. I'll remember you and your beautiful garden. I'll remember the Garage Sale Santa. I'll even remember BINGO on Friday nights when you babysat Ian and I as my folks went square dancing.

You have a sense of humour that I love! I don't think I let you know how much I appreciate it. I don't even know how to describe it... I just started noticing it these past few years. I remember sitting with Mom in your living room one afternoon when I realized, "My grandma is hilarious."

I love how loving you are. I love your hugs. I love when you smile at me. I even like getting water for you when you couch. I don't think you even know how awesome I think you are. Did I ever tell you?

Keep trusting in the Lord these last few days. He's with you every moment. I need to remember that for me too. He's with me now.

Instead of coming home for your memorial service, I plan to go to Scotland. I thought you would be ok with that. We both have wanted to go there for so long. I remember going to your house after school and tracing our genealogy back to Olaf the Black (good ol' Óláfr Guðrøðarson) and King Edward the II of England. I'll visit the Isle of Skye and Dunvegan Castle. I think that's what you would have wanted.

I love you and miss you,

Your grandaughter,

Margaret

P.S. Crap. I'm crying again and all of my handkerchiefs are soaked through.

2 comments:

  1. When I delivered a plant to Hazel on 3/31/13 at her apartment, I really had no idea it would be my last time seeing her. I regret that I couldn't stay to chat as she would have liked; my child wouldn't even come in the room, and I didn't feel right leaving her alone in the public hallway. Yes, we too love Hazel's slyly-delivered humorous comments. Blessings to you, Maggie, from Bonnie.

    ReplyDelete

Your words make me grin.

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