More grandmother stuff

A year ago today I took my grandmother shopping for the last time.  She had always been a whirlwind in the streets of Charleston and in the malls.  No matter my age, my phsyical fitness or the number of sitting rests I took outside fitting rooms, she always whipped my butt on our shopping trips.  I went home exhausted every time. 

Last year, in a departure from tradition, I drove, I parked, I helped her with her oxygen and her walker.  I figured out the location of stores she wanted to visit.  I stood beside her as she sat on the tiny seat affixed to her walker.  I was in charge of this shopping trip and the significance of that fact saddened me.  I'm not an in-charge kind of person.  I like someone else to take control and make decisions and someone always had. 

At one point we were taking one of our many rests, and a former neighbor stopped by to chat.  She had a friend with her who lived near my grandmother but had never met her.  I remember thinking how sad that this woman was seeing only the elderly frail version of my grandmother and not the energetic, always interesting, artistic and elegantly attired version.  I could see in the woman's face that she was completely indifferent to meeting my grandmother and I thought how pervasive it is that people overlook and ignore one another, especially those older than themselves. 

My grandmother and I hit Macy's on one of our last stops.  She was pretty tired at this point and was inadvertently knocking merchandise off the racks as I scurried behind her picking it up.  She bought a cute pair of shoes and there was a mistake when the cashier rang it up.  The reason escapes me, but she had to ring it up again.  My grandmother sat down while I handled the transaction.  I told my grandmother twice to check her credit card bill when it came later in the month to make sure they hadn't double-charged her.  

There was a funny moment for both of us in the restroom when Grandmama couldn't get out of the stall for a second.  We both laughed once she got the handle turned.  She said she was just starting to panic and I said that the thought crossed my mind that I'd have to crawl underneath the stall on my belly to rescue her. 

I drove her to her house and she sat on the couch looking small and tired.  I hugged her and wondered if I'd ever see her alive again. 

I didn't. 

I don't know if she ever wore the shoes or ever saw the credit card bill.  She died a month later. 

This year has been filled with the firsts that we all experience when we lose a loved one:  the first birthday of my life without my grandmother, the first spring, summer and fall, and of course the first holidays.  I've been thinking about her a lot lately.  I'm coming up on what would have been her 90th birthday (coincidentally, the same day as Kari's mom's birthday)--January 7.  She died on January 30, 2010.

I haven't handled the grief in my life very well.  Still working on trying to feel it and not stuff it.   I'm  finding myself repeating the mantra, "I remember you.  I remember you. I remember you."  

May it be so. 

 

 

 

Comments

[angela]

What a beautiful day for a memory. There is a weird kind of grief for us who stuff it--it surfaces as if diving makes it easier.

I think you are right, say 'I remember you' and cherish what we have loved well.

[presbyfruit]

Angela, I've been remembering you too, as I go around with that beautiful scarf you knitted. :)

I'm trying to unlearn feeling stuffing.