Tonight is Grandma's last night in her home. For an hour or two, she flitted from place to place fretting about everything. Being that I am like that whenever I go anywhere, we just had to let her wear herself out. She's calmer now and heading to bed.
Grandma has lived 50 years in this place. Not this apartment, but on the same compound grounds. The tiny little world eked out separate from the rest of the world. Here there is safety and memories and friends. Here there is no poverty, no fighting, no fear. Here there is an underground potato shed.
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| Grandma and I in years gone by. Me little; her big. |
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| Grandma and I recently. Her little; me big. |
Grandma has lived through everything. She was born just before the Depression hit and she fought her way through. She left her parents' home at 14 years of age to go to work and she has been working ever since. It's hard for her to recognize that she doesn't have to keep fighting. She's done it so long, been without for so long, taken care of others for so long.
Tomorrow, she goes on her last big adventure. A new place, new people, new experiences, old lady.
And because I have so much respect for her, I will not tell you the story about the rags.
Until after she's dead.
Lovely post.
ReplyDeleteBut one thing--this had better not be her last great adventure. She's still got one last great adventure to go (Peter Pan calls death "an awfully big adventure").
Great post, Girl. As I write, you will all be up and at it Saturday morning. I hope the move to Lloyd goes well for all. My love to you and Grandma.
ReplyDeleteI expect you girls can write a book after Grandma dies. I know you have several stories, Ky.
You are making me cry with each one of these posts, and I am so glad that she has you there to help her through all of frustration and emotion of that move.
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