Thoughts of My Grandmother

My Nana, my father's mother, stayed in my life the longest of my grandparents. She did not pass until I was well into my 20's. Being born when my parents were in their mid to late 30's meant losing my grandparents one-by-one when I was a young child.

Nana was a pretty tough and smart woman. She had a good sense of humor though life wasn't always easy. And she loved us well. As she got older and my grandfather, who was 10 years older, passed away, she started into that long, slow decline. She fell several times, breaking a hip here and an ankle there, which did not just hurt her bones but also challenged her independent nature. Signs of senility set in, too. When I was in college, my mother took care of her mother-in-law for an extended stay in our home. I helped out when I could, sometimes awoken in the night by Nana trying to find her way in the dark.

Eventually, Nana needed more than my mom could give and we settled her into a local nursing home. She hung on for a long, unhappy time there. She did not go down without a fight, but started to sink into senility in earnest. Sometimes that senility brought out anger and bitterness. We visited often and she would often plead with us to bring her home. It was not her talking, yet anyone who is familiar with Alzheimer's disease knows, it is still difficult and depressing to face. Their confusion and misery can make each visit seem like a chore, even though you know you should and do love that person for who they really are underneath it all.

I prefer to think of the very happy times I spent with my grandmother. She was very supportive and kind. I remember being at her house and playing this little organ they had in their sun porch. She gave me one dollar each Sunday when we visited after church. She was an excellent baker, but would sometimes sneak me a piece of buttered white bread with sugar sprinkled on top. In warm weather, I played in and around the garden shed, which seemed like a little cottage with its miniature window and door. There was a big patch of lilies of the valley next to the shed. I loved their intensely sweet perfume and thought they were unique to my grandmother's as we did not have them in our yard.

Last spring, our first at this house, I was delighted to find two large patches of lilies of the valley in our yard. They are the cutest little things. Their flowers remind me of Christmas bells or of funny, frilly skirts. We get down low to smell them (Whew! They are strong!), and I tell my little boy about his great-grandmother's yard and about what a good woman she was. Oh, how much she would have liked him. Those little flowers with their bright green foliage are blooming now, and I stop each day to admire them and to remember.