On the day
my grandmother passed I got a phone call from my sister.
It was the
middle of the day and I was at work.
I looked
down at my cell phone, saw who it was and then sent my sister right to
voicemail.
I didn't
think twice about it for the rest of the day.
About an
hour before it was quitting time, I listened to the voicemail my sister left.
She told
me that the nursing home called to let us know that my grandmother was passing
and she probably didn't have long. If
someone wanted to come out and sit with her they should hurry.
My sister
was calling me because I was the closest but I sent her to voicemail and went
about my day.
It makes
my heart sad to know that I could have gone to her.
I could
have held her hand...if I had only picked up
the phone.
I wish I
could have been by her side.
My
grandmother was a funny, sassy, strong woman.
She was a
woman who was more fond of children than adults.
Who
couldn't cook to save her life!
My mother
tells the funniest stories of her childhood and my grandmother's non-culinary skills.
My
grandmother would try to cook something in the pressure cooker only inevitably to have the fire
department come and run the damn thing outside to the driveway!
There
would be this pressure cooker in the middle of the driveway and a bunch of
fireman standing far back.
And this
happened more than once! Not a good cook.
When I was
little I remember my grandmother scraping the burnt off the toast before giving
it to us! She burnt everything! And the funny thing is...to this day I LOVE the
burnt edges of things!
My aunt
can go on and on with hysterical grandma stories. Like the time when my aunt and mom pulled up
on motorcycles onto front lawn of my grandma's house.
My grandma walks out and without even flinching, says:
"Oh look my daughters are home!"
Even when
my grandmother came down with Alzheimer's, she had moments of shear lucidity and
she was funny.
There was the
time when my aunt (who was married twice...and well...let's face it...multiple
marriages seem to "run" in my family...well except for me, my one
cousin and grandma!), well my aunt told my grandma that she was going out to church
and my grandmother's response:
"Oh lord, you're not getting married again are
you?"
Funny! Sassy!!
And when
she passed I felt a void. A void not only for myself because I missed my
grandma but a void for my children who will never get to know her.
To honor
my grandmother, at her funeral my sister order a beautiful collection of
flowers including a grave blanket and a wreath.
The
flowers were Irises. My grandmother's favorite flower and the wreath had a
banner on it that said:
"Hope
is always with us!"
But none
of us ever got to see those beautiful flowers and that heartfelt wreath. The
funeral home made a mistake and sent the flowers to another funeral.
And the
mistake was crazy because my grandmother's name...well my grandmother's name
is...
Hope
Now some
could argue that the phrase: "Hope is always with us!" is generic but
for us (me and my family) it's not.
Hope means
more to us.
Hope is a strong, crazy, sassy lady who used to tell all of these imaginative stories
that earned her the nickname: "Tall
Tale Hope".
And she's
family.
She's my
grandma.
Grandma
Hope was always a very charitable woman.
She supported the church and volunteered in her community. We felt that
her flowers going to someone else was her last act of charity. And I am sure
they were beautiful.
If my
child is a little girl I will name her Hope.
After my
grandma.
And with
all my doubts and fears. Through all my anger and hurt I will try to tap into all
the strength that I inherited from my amazing grandmother and remember that:
"Hope
is always with us!"
