G'Night, Grandma

[RoyGBiv]

I beg your indulgence. Today is always a hard day for me, and I tend to be stuck in a state of melancholy for a few days afterward if I don't vent my feelings in some way. Since the people on DU are collectively far more understanding of human emotion than any other group I've encountered, I've chosen to vent here.

Eleven years ago today my grandmother died. Her name was Margaret, and she hated to be called Maggie, so of course all her friends and family called her Lavonne, which she hated more. I didn't get it either. It was apparently some inside joke from her youth that followed her throughout her life. As with most things, she took it in stride and smiled as she dug out some response brimming with wit and that often took the recipient hours to decipher completely. Her revenge, in all things, was to make your brain work hard.

One of my most vivid memories of her is her blue eyes. They were stunning, piercing, vastly intelligent and wise. They told you everything you needed to know about her in an instant. She could flash them subtly and speak paragraphs. She never left you uncertain, even if her words were cryptic. And I remember those eyes specifically from the day before she died, during our last lengthy conversation, which concerned midterm elections.

It was a Tuesday, and I was visiting after class and before voting in a local primary. I always consulted Grandma before doing so, just to get her take on things and make sure I'd considered all possible angles because I knew she certainly had. She asked me how I was voting, and I told her. Her eyes flashed "Good boy," and I swelled with pride. Then she asked me why, and I told her, and we discussed what I had said for some time. The blue light from inside her flashed again, and my heart felt comfortable. Before I left she asked me not for the first time, "You always vote, right?" "Yes, Grandma, always."

"You're going to be just fine, son." It wasn't a sentence. It was a look with a few words attached to it.

I voted that day just as I said I would, and I called to let her know. She'd voted earlier by absentee as her amputated legs made getting to the polls a nearly impossible task. She was fine that night, satisfied as she could be with the results considering she lived in a state that generally voted at polar opposites to her own political convictions. But, we were scoring some victories. She was comfortable, her missing leg not speaking to her that evening, and she was home, in her own bed, with people she loved near her.

I couldn't see her eyes as we spoke, of course, so she was more verbal as she told me, this time more explicitly, "You're going to be alright. You make good decisions."

"I love you, Grandma. G'night." These were the last words I spoke to her that she understood.

The next day I had to make the decision to take her off life support, as her mind was gone, killed by the absence of oxygen caused ultimately by a blood clot from her missing leg lodging in her brain. She was still conscious and somewhat lucid as they rolled her into ICU, and she waved at me. It seemed like goodbye. We'd had this dance countless times over the past several years, but the waves had been different then, or maybe it's just my memory now tricking me.

But her eyes caught mine and held them for a few moments. Of this I am completely certain. They bore right through me and spoke. "You're going to be alright. You make good decisions."

Goodbye again, Grandma. I'm sorry I didn't wave back. I hope I do make good decisions. I love you.

Thank you for your time.

[OldLeftieLawyer]

1. Your grandma was right

You are just fine, son.

[RoyGBiv]

3. Thank you ...

That simple response means more to me than I could possibly express.

[peekaloo]

2. Are you a writer?

That was moving.

:hug:

[RoyGBiv]

4. Thanks ...

I'm a failed one. :-) That is, I can't sell anything, but thanks for the thoughts. Much appreciated.

I should be off to bed now, but again, thank you for your time.

[fleabert]

5. As my grandma would have said...

you done real good.

I cried reading your post, so very similar to my feelings and experiences with my Grandmother. She died Dec. 20, 2003, at 67. She was supposed to come home from the hospital in two days (there for anemia from chemo on a cancer that was practically kicked- and had only been diagnosed two months before), but a pulmonary embollism changed that.

I saw her the night she died, I think she knew, and I think part of me knew. I knew she was tired, yet I could not leave, three times I said goodbye and didn't leave. I finally crawled into bed with her and just cried with my head on her chest as she stroked my hair. I gave her a final rub on her beautiful bald head, she smiled at me, blue piercing eyes telling me it would be okay, and I walked out. six hours later she was gone.

I think our grandmas would have gotten along just great. Mine was my moral compass and my liberal guide in life. I can only hope that I am half the person she was to so many.

Thanks for sharing, I needed a good cry and to share myself.

[RoyGBiv]

6. What a touching story ...

Thanks so much for sharing that.

[fleabert]

7. and thanks to you again. It helped to write it.

:hug: