Memories

The sweetest memories I have of my grandma are some of my faintest memories. Since so much time has passed, I just have overall feelings and a sense of things more than distinct sharp memories. The place where most of those memories arise from was Crow Agency, Montana. My grandparents lived on the Indian reservation and my grandfather was the pastor of the church. I remember their home and grandma’s kitchen. She was a great cook and that room felt so big to me—and so warm and welcoming. There were vents in the floor upstairs and I would try and eavesdrop on all the conversations and activity downstairs, even after being sent to bed. I remember being at the church with her and how she would teach and how much she loved the children. Grandma was a teacher, an encourager. I can still remember her handwriting, and her notes.
Grandma also had a good sense of humor. Grandpa is the King of Corny and he has spent a lot of time teasing her. She would just laugh. Her children too definitely got the joking/teasing genes and they would tease her also. She always took it so well and in her day, she dished it out too. I heard the story (more than once) about how she baked Ex-lax into cookies for her cousin and how it caused him a lot of embarrassing bathroom trips. There are probably more stories I never heard.
Another memory I have was more sobering. I was in the kitchen of our home with grandma, when I was in high school. She was drinking a glass of water and the disease that was beginning to influence her made her arm jerk violently. The cup hit the wall and water went everywhere. I remember the expression on her face. She was embarrassed and ashamed. My heart felt so sad as I said, “It’s okay Grandma,” and wiped up the mess.
I am proud of my grandmother. She went to Anderson College and she became a teacher. She loved her husband and her children. I am sure she did not do everything “right” in those roles, but as a mother myself now, I know how impossible that is. I love her, flaws and all. Incredibly, she also did a lot of research and was the first to discover the name for the disease that plagues our family and has taken her mind from us. The last time I was with her was June 2011. She could not communicate or show that she recognized me anymore. But, it was good to see her and tell her that I loved her.
Now she is fighting through what will probably be her last few days on this earth. I find comfort again, as I mentioned in a previous post, of thinking of her whole again. And, I find myself grasping at each and every memory I can find in the recesses of my mind. Grandma, I love you.