My Grandma died (I am not going to say passed away or any other euphemism) on November 17, 2012. She died 27 years and 12 days after her husband who died when I was 14 years old. She was 97 years old when she died. That’s a damn long time to live. I do not think I would like to live that long because every one I care about would be gone by then. That and I am not entirely certain that I like the way the world is going right now. It is either going to get better or worse. Those are the options.
But, I am slowly processing the fact that she is gone and is not coming back. I am also beginning to realize what an immense influence both she and my Granddad had on me. I do not think I would have had the strength to become who I am without the presence of either of them. When I asked her last Christmas how she met my Granddad, she said she had a nickel and she went to town. Well, I am glad that she had that nickel.
I can remember them taking care of my sister and myself on year when my parents went to Puerto Rico (I think) for a couple of weeks. There was always an old lunchbox full of Matchbox cars and dominoes and Chinese checkers that were in a closet that was off “yonder.” I consider myself both horrified and proud to know that I know where yonder is regardless of where it really is. If you tell me to this day that something is off yonder a ways, I can always find my way there.
She always made the best cherry pies for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Thanksgiving was a little weird this year as we buried her ashes on the 20th of November, and Thanksgiving was two days later. It was the first Thanksgiving in my lifetime that she was not there. This will be my first Christmas without her. That will be difficult, I think. I try not to cry or get overly emotional because when I do, I find it hard to stop.
She was amazing in so many ways. She and my Granddad were married shortly after the Depression and right before the Dust Bowl. They lived in a very simple house on the eastern plains of Texas. One story I remember her telling is how she needed eyeglasses, and my Granddad went out and hand-picked cotton until he had the money to buy her the glasses she needed. If they were picking together, he would carry her sack because he was stronger (she was tiny), and when it got too hot, he would send her inside where it was cooler. Her maiden name was Hatfield. So, I am descendant of a Hatfield. That’s kind of cool. Knowing that I struggle financially, she would periodically make up “gifts” of coffee, canned soup, crackers, flour, and other dry goods. She knew what it meant to be poor.
She was so strong, and caring at the same time. She hardly ever smiled because she just didn’t. She didn’t express her opinion often, but as I grew up, I learned that didn’t mean she didn’t have one, because she most certainly had an opinion on everything. Especially things that affected her family. She was a woman of few words, but when the words came out of her, they were short, to the point, and you listened. And you listened good. She only really spoke her mind when she felt it to be absolutely necessary. I remember her telling my husband that he “better take good care of her granddaughter.” And, that was all she had to say about that. To this day, he remembers that. I was her first granddaughter. And she loved me fiercely though I did not realize it until it was too late to tell her how much I loved her.
She cared for those she loved like a lioness protecting and teaching her cubs. And she loved her family with that ferocity. Her strength and dignity still amaze me.
She died exactly where she wanted to be: in her recliner. Her life touched me in a way that I am only beginning to understand. My aunts and uncles, her children, have been my babysitters, my one uncle has always been the “goto” guy. He’s the one that came with her when I wrecked my first car at the age of 15. It was his house where she died. I am glad that she was with familiar people when she died. I am glad they moved her from the hospice where she was. And, I am glad that she died with some family around. It is soothing to know that she died near her loved ones.
I am proud to have been her granddaughter, and I am very proud to be her first-born’s daughter first-born even if I am a little weird sometimes 🙂 I love all of you very much, and I appreciate the help you all have given me over the years (even when you didn’t know that you were helping me), I appreciate the lessons I have learned from all of you even if it took some time to stick. And, I especially appreciate the fact that all of you did not give up on me when it would have been so easy to do. And that definitely includes my Grandma who never gave up.
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