Jenny’s grandmother died in her sleep yesterday morning. She was 93 years old and the only grandmother I ever had. I met her either just before or just after Jenny and I got married, and she immediately began treating me like her own grandson. She continued to do so for the next 13 years. I loved her a great deal, and I will miss her.
I got to see her for the last time last Wednesday. She was in the hospital and doing rather poorly – something about fluid building up in or around her lungs – but she seemed to know who I was and held my hand for several minutes while I talked to her. She seemed amazed that it was 2:00 in the afternoon and asked me a few times, “What did I do all morning?” As if, at 93 and in failing health, she felt that sleeping was wasting time.
She also wanted coffee, pointed out to me that she liked sweets, and mused that “I must look crazy” in her oxygen mask.
In all the years I knew her, I never saw her in anything but stoic good spirits, and I scolded her many times for not letting people know when she had any physical ailments. On each of those occassions, she’d sort of grin sheepishly and promise me that she’d let someone know the next time her legs hurt or she wasn’t eating or couldn’t sleep or whatever it was….and I knew she wouldn’t do it. In my mind, she was the classic down-East farm wife: if you break your leg, take an aspirin and sleep it off. No need to bother anybody else with your own problems.
Her favorite foods – a source of constant amusement to me – were shrimp and french fries. In the last year, she also added clam chowder to that short list. Whenever we took her to dinner, it was foremost in everyone’s mind that the restaurant have shrimp and french fries. She never seemed to tire of that diet, so while we’d all load up on pasta and fish and steak, she’d happily dig into her shrimp cocktail and could usually be counted upon to help me finish my fries.
This morning, I was given a dresser, a nightstand and a vase that were hers for the 5 years that she lived here in Georgia. I’ve installed them in my newly-finished guestroom. It’s nice to know that those items, along with two chairs that came from her New Jersey home, will be in my house and serve to remind me of her in the years to come.
Her funeral will be in New Jersey on Friday morning. Jenny, Herb, Andi and I will fly up on Thursday for the services. I hope to be able to put a picture of an elephant in her coffin. Sounds weird, I know, but she liked elephants and the four of us had a wonderful time last Mother’s Day when we visited the zoo and I took the picture for her.
As irreligious as I sometimes appear, I do have my own quirky blend of faith; I know “Gramma” is in a much better place today and I have no doubt that she’s happy.