Lately my grandmother has been heavily in my mind. Heavy seems an odd word to use as she was probably under a buck and almost never in a settled position long enough to catch the weight of anything as inconvenient as physical gravity. Even as she aged I imagine her in her last years with her feet somehow off the ground. Flitting from one thing to another, one project or errand or chore, another task, mission, or engagement. Never stopping and always going. Its one of the strongest memories we know of her. Her inability to be immobile. Her ability to run on all cylinders, and when others would run out of gas somehow having this quite miraculous energy to still find time and desire to run to the store, drop off items to the church, get to the pharmacy, vacuum the house, clip the kitties nails, weed the gardens and jump in the lake for a quick half mile swim. All this was done in about 2.2 hours. She still had the rest of the day to do 14 other things written down on one of her 13 written to-do lists (if only she could find them all. No worries, they could, and would, be rewritten hundreds of times over). Grandma was a vital woman. Not just vital in our lives, as she most definitely was the pulse of us all, but i mean rather that she was a woman of Vitality. She was a woman of stamina and livelihood. A Go-Go-Go kind of woman who not only never stopped moving but never stopped talking as well. When trying to leave her home she would be following us to our car still talking a mile a minute. Shed follow us up the steep incline of the driveway. Shed make you roll down your window once you were inside and shed keep going, even as you forced yourself to pull away. Her hands holding onto the car door frame now that the window was rolled down, still energetically talking, about everything and nothing, as you were already halfway down the street. You had to force yourself to pick up speed and drive away, leaving her in the rearview window with a huge smile on her face, waving. At the time I remember this was a quirk we dealt with with grandma. Later we realized, it was just one more of her ways she loved the world. Loved all of us. Never wanting each moment to end, wanting to be fully in it, living, loving, Vitally. It never mattered what was going on in life, music was always welcome. She was a polka champion when she had been younger but that wasnt the music she wanted to hear when going about her day. Music didnt just fill her ears like most of us, it filled her soul. Being so tiny shed ask us to reach the radio on top of the fridge (why she didnt move it to an easier place I will never understand) and always her request: Rock n Roll. Shed dance. But mostly shed just smile and kind of bop along. She loved the guitar solos, loudly proclaimed lyrics, and also the boom of bass. (although she often pronuounced it bass... like the fish. Giving up on the term I remember many times my brother and I pulling out of the drive in his car and her not letting us go until we met her request: Make it THUMP!) Grandma had a way of loving life. Loving each and every moment in it. And doing it to the fullest. More than fullest i dont think Webster has created a word quite fitting to encompass the fullness she could embrace. Even in one day. She had the ability to put everything else aside to Be. To Enjoy. To Love. To Live. That is, as long as she could do it all at lightening speed so she could fit even more of it into her day. When she was passing we were all there. Her Huge Tribe of women. And the few men too. Seeing her for the first time ever in our lives, unconscious, immobile, was surreal. Wed never seen her so... still. Being the woman she was, she of course wasnt going to leave this life she adored as quickly as she lived it. And I imagine her holding on in that last week, trying to fit more and more, any little bit she could still get, into that huge lively heart of hers. And so we waited. All of our family filled the hospice lounge, nurses glancing our way or coming by to shut the doors as we filled the place over that week with constant chatter and the melody of.... her. As time went on we took turns remaining there, talking with her, kissing her, and eventually encouraging her that it was okay to let go now. She was hanging on and probably living a wild and crazy, full, and overly active life still in her head. It was late one night. Everyone tired from the long week had eventually made their way for food and to their homes and the comfort of warm beds. My sister and I had left with everyone and then snuck back in the late hours. The hospital had put a little mini stereo in the room with a couple CDs to pick from. No one had opted to use it, maybe preferring the silence for our own thoughts and memories to fill. Looking through the discs I saw they were sounds of nature. And classical. And some other soft musical collections. Selections appropriate I imagine to a peaceful and soothing passing. I smiled to myself, and her, as my sister and I moved the stereo to the stand right next to her head and fiddled through the radio stations. Ensuring it was kept on a low volume I moved it as close to her ear as possible. We each leaned in and with tears streaming whispered that we loved her. We then left the room to the whispered sounds of Rock N Roll. They said she passed within an hour or so of us leaving our secret visit and task. And I imagine her dancing her way out of there. Smiling at us with such love of life, love of us. Chattering away and laughing, shaking her bottom and bouncing her hands. Her feet never touching the ground. I learned from my grandmother more than I ever knew I would. I learned more about life from her than I ever told her. And I can only hope that I have even an ounce of who she is in my own self. That we all may. That we may never fill ourselves enough in one day, one year, one life... always seeking out more and more Joy. More Love. More Life. More to do. More... Vitality.
Posted on: Thu, 07 Nov 2013 19:51:50 +0000
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