I woke up early this morning (as you might tell from the timestamp).

I check my email and this came from my Dad:

Just a message to let you know that [my brother] and I are at our Mother’s bedside in the certain last moments of her 93 years of life. She is in hospice care and not expected to live through the night. At the moment the good Lord calls her home we will have a brief family prayer at the funeral home the next day and a prayer graveside that same day. None of you should worry or make any arrangements to be here. You can pay your respects the next time you are in Omaha. She had an indomitable spirit and strong will to live and gave her two boys great support and encouragement each and every day of our lives.  We revere her and hold her up for your prayers. I will keep you posted. No flowers or worries. I love you all. Dad.

I sit here not knowing what I write. It’s not really a surprise given her health, but she did have such a strong will to live that I guess if she lived for another 10 years I wouldn’t have been surprised at that either.

I remember the big white house on Ruggles Street. Picking crab apples. Curiously picking through the barn when we shouldn’t have. I remember walking down the hallway and stepping on a thumbtack with my big toe. The games we’d play with the blocks and that big steel dumptruck (which my Dad still has)… or games like Waterworks, Sorry, Pit… and our favorite, Rummikub. I spent a lot of time at Grandma and Grandpa’s house as a small child, and there were so many things there that fascinated me. A rush of that is coming back to me now, like the old letter scale, her desk of many drawers, the hurricane lamp, those old green couches that were always scratchy on our legs, the old radios and electric fans, the floor-model TV, the little candy dishes full of those Brach’s mixed bin candies (never liked those coconut neapolitan things, and that’s all that was left in the dish by the time we left… and then the next time we came over if she hadn’t been to the store yet).

Of course, how could I forget… it was Grandma Eleanor that gave us kids black licorice. Every time we’d visit, we’d so look forward to that as we only got it at her house. Technically it was Grandpa’s, but she always slipped us a piece if we were good. 🙂

I can see her face… heck, I remember when we’d act up and she would warn us “Don’t make me cross with you!” and boy you shaped up. How she would make us breakfast. It was the first time I had Shredded Wheat… no, not the frosted mini-ones, but that one big biscuit. Or the first time I had Grape Nuts and poured a big bowl (how’s a kid supposed to know!!), and while Grandpa forced me to eat it, she saved me from it. Heck, even little things like how there was always a tub of margarine on the dinner table.

Little things a boy remembers, eh?

Oh… and then there was how she would cook for us. When she knew we were coming to visit, she would travel all the way down to the PX, no matter how far out of the way it was, to buy tapioca for us. Not the little grains, but the big tapioca balls (the size of large peas) and make pudding for us. That was my favorite. Or her bread pudding… oh so good. Heck, as I write this, I can see her in the kitchen of the later house off Pacific Street, in the kitchen there cooking… putting the prep scraps into old plastic bread bags as she went along.

And then, the organ. You know, it was always us kids that messed around on the organ, but I swear I recall her playing it a time or two. The song “Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes” comes to mind, not sure if she played it but I know it was in one of those songbooks she had and I recall thinking it had a funny name.

One thing she liked to do with us was take us to the Humane Society. We’d go there with her, pet all the animals there, especially the cats. Maybe that’s where my love of cats started. She always had pet dogs (Puddin’!), and we didn’t have cats in my house growing up until later… so maybe it was from Grandma and all those visits that made me into a cat person. 🙂

She always took care of us. She never defied her husband, but she was always the foil/counter to a lot of his gruffness.

As I reflect back while I write this set of disjointed memories, one thing I realize is how much of my memories are from me as a young boy. I think that’s because the majority of my interaction with her was then. As she got older, eventually Alzheimer’s set in… heck, I remember after my Grandfather died she turned in the old station wagon (in which the A/C was always on “bi-level” and low fan speed, even in the worst summer heat… ugh!) and she got a bright red Chevy Blazer, eventually she realized that it wasn’t best for her to be on the road any more and she gave the keys up. She was able to come for my wedding, but then I’d recall when we’d visit we might talk but you could see her struggle with her memories… looking through a photo album and swearing she knew the people in there, but there was no way she could. It just broke my heart. But once things really set in, she just became happy. We’d visit her and while she likely didn’t know who we were, she was so happy and happy to see us. I recall the last time we saw her how much she just watched Youngest and was just drawn to him. Even tho she never could know my children, I’m glad they got to meet her, even if it was only a fraction of who she was.

Update: I just got off the phone with my younger sister. She called me, crying a bit, which of course is understandable. But we quickly turned the sadness into a great celebration of rememberance and she reminded me of so much more: the bingo set (we LOVED that little cage to roll around the balls); the stuffed koala bear; the Wooly Willy; the tea cups with the faces; those old perfume “vaporizer” with the little squeeze bulbs. I forgot how she called Kool-Aid “bug juice”. As I was talking to Younger Sister about riding in the car with Grandma (she too remembered the bi-level A/C), I found myself sitting in the front seat of the station wagon sitting next to Grandma and remembering all her purses… they were so neat. How we’d all be out in the backyard catching fireflies. How when we’d come over for an extended stay, she’d have towels and washclothes set out for us… but the neatest thing was always her Neutrogena soap… the clear/amber stuff.  And of course, how she would say “Well!” with this cute little twisted smiling face. I could never convey that here and do it any justice, but I see it clearly in my mind’s eye. Thank you, Sis, for the updated memories. 🙂

And I just remembered something she used to say every time she saw a ladybug: “Ladybug, Ladybug fly away home. Your house is on fire and your children will burn!”.  When we were kids that was just cute… looking back upon it in later years, it sounds terrible! But it was just our Grandma being funny.

She was tough. She was tenacious. She was firm and strict, but fair. While she may not have been the most lovey-dovey, you could see in every action the love and care she put into things. Always carried herself as a lady.

Thank you for everything, Grandma. I love you. I’ll miss you. Enjoy freedom.