Header image attribution here.

My husband’s 108-year-old grandmother passed away on Monday, Jan 29th. Today is Friday, Feb 2^nd, only four days later. Except for a few hours Monday afternoon when my husband and I went across town to pick up her personal effects from the care facility, I have continued showing up each day at work and attempting to function, albeit slowly as my brain is running on less than full power. My work gives bereavement days but I was planning to save them until the memorial in a few months’ time. In retrospect that was foolish of me to try to keep going as I am cracking.

I left work this morning without even turning on my computer. I am going to take today to be sad and to write this tribute to this lovely lady who was so precious to me. I don’t know that I can write enough to convey just how much she meant to me, but I will try. Perhaps as I write, I can pour out enough of my grief that I can begin to function again.

I realized how well (not) I was coping this morning when I got out of my car at the parking garage at work and looked down. I still had my slippers on. They are the slip-on rubber soled sandals type. After dressing for work in the morning, I slip my stockinged feet into them as it is more comfortable to walk on our hardwood floors with them. The last thing I do before leaving for work is to change into my dressy work shoes then grab my car keys; today I grabbed the keys but walked right past the shoes on the way to the garage.

After walking my slippered self into work, I sat down at my work space then saw a text from my oldest son; he said that they just got a call that his wife’s grandmother had also passed away. My daughter-in-law was as close to her grandmother as we all were to our grandmother so I knew that would be devastating news. At that point, I lost my composure. I have great coworkers who encouraged me to just leave, and I did. Today, I will be sad for both grandmothers.

Where do I even start with my tribute to my grandmother? I say “my” grandmother because she was really the grandmother I never had though technically she is my husband’s maternal grandmother. I knew only one grandparent as I was growing up and she died when I was 19. She was frail for the decade prior to that so I had no memories of a vibrant active grandma until I got married and inherited my husband’s two grandmothers. The other grandmother was precious as well though she passed away about 25 years ago.

My grandmother statistically could very well have lost her life at birth in 1915. Her mother died in childbirth but fortunately had delivered her twins first. Yes, Grandmother came into this world with a fraternal twin. So the story goes, her father took the twin infants home on a train with a hot water bottle wrapped up with each baby for warmth. Being unable to care for the babies as a single father, the maternal grandparents raised the little girls until the father remarried. Even then, I think that they continued living with the grandparents until they were about ten.

Grandmother went to college with her twin (still her roommate), and then became a teacher. She soon caught the eye of a widower a decade older than her and the rest as they say, is history. In those days, young women stopped teaching when married so her teaching career was only a few years.

Fast forward to her mid-fifties and Grandmother became a widow. Though hard to believe, she was widowed for 50 years. She had lots and lots of friends; we used to joke that as her friends died off, she would backfill with new friends. On her last birthday she was still in her home, she must have had phone calls and cards from 60 friends across the country.

She wrote letters (“real” pen on paper letters) almost up to the end of her life.  She lived in her own home up until age 106. She was a bit frail and used a walker by then but only had in-home help a few days a week. Cognitively she was as sharp as you or me.

Two years ago, she broke her hip and we all thought she wouldn’t make it through surgery, but she did. She then spent the last two years of her life mainly confined to bed in a care facility. She was no longer as cognitively sharp as she had been, but the same gracious personality was there, her spirit always strong though the body impossibly frail.

Free Vector watering flowers background – Freepik

How was Grandmother important to me? First and foremost, she was my dear friend. It might seem strange to say that due to the age gap, but she was. For the past twenty years, which is most of the period we lived in the same metropolitan area, I would go out to visit her every couple of weeks on a Saturday. We would sit at her little round kitchen table which was always covered with a cheerful table cloth. In the spring and summer it was a bright yellow; September would usher in a tablecloth patterned with leaves in Fall colors, and a colorful holiday themed tablecloth covered the table in December. There were always little tablemats that “of course” harmonized with the tablecloth and in the center of the table, there were always figurines on a little mirrored tray, befitting the season. That was Grandmother to a “T”…always thinking of others, always adding bits of visual charm to delight any visitors who came by. There were plenty of other visitors besides me; the neighbor lady who came by most mornings while walking her dog; her bridge friends who came by for bridge once a month, and the “sewing” friend who regularly visited. Some of Grandmother’s handsewn tablecloths and table mats were from this friend. For all of us, I’m convinced that Grandmother had an invisible watering can. She kept it filled with a mixture of love and joy which she then liberally sprinkled on all her visitors when we stopped by.

Grandmother and I would always have coffee together on those Saturday mornings; she with her coffee mug decorated with stacks of books because she loved books, just like me. Ever the hostess, she would always have a little something for me to eat, whether a pastry or small bowl of fruit. Best of all, we would talk; about everything, about nothing. She loved keeping up with how the kids were doing so I would give a run down on each of them. Sometimes we would talk about current events though never anything sports related as I was a hopeless case there. She would talk sports to others though, especially football and knew the names of the major players…at 100+ years old…amazing memory for details.

Sometimes, instead of coffee at home, Grandmother and I would go out for breakfast. She would never let me pay; she always said that my presence was her gift. She never really understood how much more her company was a gift to me though. She was one of those rare people who make one feel in a conversation that they are the most important person in the room. I don’t know how she did that, but I would leave those visits filled to the top with love and comfort from her. Especially after my mom died 8 years ago, those visits became even more precious to me. The ache that I felt after my mom was gone was vast; I could no longer call my mom to chat and so those coffee visits with Grandmother took on a new level of importance in my life. To a great extent, those visits helped me through my grief.

Now I am back in the deep grief of losing someone who meant the world to me. Outside of her family and friends, Grandmother is not known and will not be missed by the rest of the world. We who knew her though, understand the loss and must somehow move on in our lives despite the gaping hole in our hearts. I’m sad for my husband who spent his growing-up years coming out to see her every summer; he lost the beloved grandmother of his boyhood and a lifetime of knowing her. I’m also sad for my oldest son and family; they so wanted to bring their newborn son to see his great-great-grandmother “Gigi” so that they could tell him later that they did meet. They are coming out in just a couple of weeks and so are just missing being able to get those pictures.

Grandmother, I am so honored to have called you friend as well as Grandmother. I will forever miss you but will always be warmed by my memories of time spent with you. I love you.

I rarely do this but am posting a “real” picture in this blog, taken of my husband holding Grandmother’s hand, during our last visit with her. There is a lot of love in that picture, and it seems appropriate to me to post it as a last good-bye.