Green Mailboxes & More.
I visited my Great Grandma Dorothy at the nursing home today, but let me bring you up to speed with what has been happening lately.
Dorothy is my Father’s Grandma, on his Dad’s side. She is 93. Which is a lot of years. She used to live in Carthage, Missouri and lived in a house that was suitable for no one less that a Great Grandma. An old television that relied on the use of a dial, and toys that were easily older than me, and for that probably worth a fortune, but selling them must have sounded like a dumb idea. Her house was interesting to me growing up, she had a mailbox that was built into the house. It basically consisted of a hole in the house that had to green, plastic pieces added on with handles. My fascination with this mailbox led Grandma Dorothy to be referred to as “Grandma With The Green Mailbox.”
I did that a lot growing up, referring to people based of quirky things about them, or something they owned. I referred to one of my Grandpa’s as “Grandpa with the Flashlights,” because every time we visited he was so how able to muster up enough flashlights and batteries for us to play with.
I never really knew a lot about Grandma’s past, what she did before I was born, my Dad was born, or even his Dad was born. It was interesting to find out that she traveled around a lot with my Great Grandpa. Apparently he loved to travel, so road trips were not uncommon for the young couple.
A quote that has been passed down on my Mother’s side is, “Growing Old Ain’t for Sissies!” Although I think some days “Growing Old” could easily be replaced with “Living.”
Last Week Grandma was diagnosed with cancer, and they were planning on going into surgery but, were unable to because of the amount. The doctors gave her 3 months to live.
My whole family, excluding myself, went to see her on Friday. From what I heard Trevor snuggled up on the bed with her, and Brandon exchanged conversation with her about his plans of being a chef, and how he is playing drums at church.
I had to work that Friday so this last Tuesday, my mother and myself went to visit her. We met her there and we were able to talk. I told her of my job at Mcallister’s bussing tables, about my internet classes with Mizzou, and my feeble attempts at “making pictures on the computer.” I told her of my plans for next summer, to be a camp counselor in Alaska, what colleges I’m looking into. Although I could tell she was tired, I could still see in her face the excitement. She wouldn’t quit telling me how proud she was of me. I planned on coming weekly out to see my Grandma and get to know her a little more.
Then next day Grandma had a seizure.
I didn’t know what to say. I had literally been sitting, talking, and laughing with her the day before. This was moving a lot faster than any one had planned. The had given her days, maybe weeks now.
We went and saw Grandma again today. It wasn’t her. Physically she was there, alive and breathing and all that. We held hands and I just talked (My Dad says she hasn’t talked since the seizure), telling her of how I love her helicopter toys, the green mailbox, and Thanksgivings at her house in Carthage.
We all took turns sitting down with her. Mom prayed, Trevor just held her hand silently (which is odd for my little 12 year old brother), and Brandon couldn’t bring himself to pass through the doorway. I don’t think he is weak for this, I think some people have a harder time with certain things.
As I sat in that dimly lit room, and looked around it I saw pictures of these children. Some of me and my brothers, some of my cousins, some of relatives I will probably never meet. She has had an impact on all of their lives. The way she raised her children, impacted the way they raised theirs, which impacts the way we behave, and will treat our children. This is circle of life.
As I said goodbye, something that has never been easy for me, their was a peace still. I knew her heart was right, and that she had found salvation in Jesus. She had a wonderful life, and a long one at that. The memories she created are implanted in my head, and will not be soon forgotten.
(It should also be noted that while at the Nursing Home, I met a man who commented on how he ran for president, and Brandon was hugged by a woman with a CD player turned up to maximum capacity. She was dancing down the hallways, little steps, big steps, little slides here and there.
I love nursing homes.)
I’m not really sure why I wrote this all on the internet…
