Growing up, I always heard my father, aunts and uncle talk about the “ultimate grandma.” This woman always snuck them cookies during the day and didn’t make them eat their vegetables. I was always jealous of these stories, and I wished that I had been able to meet this so-called ultimate grandma. But soon I realized I was lucky enough to have a wonderful grandma of my own.
From the time I was born, she was always there for me. I basically lived with her and my grandpa. She was my second mom. Before kindergarten started, I was there every day while my parents were at work. When I started going to school, she drove me every morning. I went to a Catholic school and when we passed the statue of Mary outside the church, we would recite a little poem we made up. It was “good morning, mother of God.” When I got home from kindergarten, each afternoon granny would make me lunch then take me upstairs for my nap with my pink bear, Bunny. Before each nap, we would read out of the latest Archie comic book.
I looked forward to seeing her and my grandpa every day after school. When I grew out of taking naps and began going to school for a full day, there was always a snack waiting for me when I got off the bus. In the spring it was iced tea or lemonade and in the winter it was hot chocolate with mini marshmallows.
My grandma was the most stable thing I had in my life, not to mention the strongest. No matter how bratty I was or how much I talked back or didn’t listen, she was always there for me, loving me more than before. I realize now this would be called “unconditional love.” When I didn’t make the cheerleading squad in seventh grade, I didn’t have to say anything; she just gave me a big hug and let me cry on her shoulder. She knew how to cheer me up.
One day in the summer of 1999, I noticed a slight change in my grandma. It was a Wednesday during the summer. I was waiting for my grandma to get ready to go grocery shopping (every Monday was Revco [now known as CVS], every Wednesday was Catalano’s.) An odd thing happened, she didn’t go. She seemed very tired. She didn’t even come to the kitchen table to play solitaire! She just sat in her chair weakly, watching TV. If you knew this woman, you would know this was completely out of character for her.
The fall came and I started eighth grade. My family was getting more and more cautious about my granny’s health. She was normally the healthiest person out of everyone. Once we went on vacation to Sawmill Creek and everyone came down with the flu except my grandma and I. While they were sick in bed, we were out enjoying our vacation. Now it was different, she was the sick one. My family decided to make my grandma go to the doctor and get checked out, even though she did not want to. I think we all had our own idea as to what she might have had. I just prayed it was something small, knowing my granny wouldn’t let me down and overcome whatever it was holding her back.
The results came back and it was cancer. Not just a small case, either. She had to have surgery right away. The day of the surgery, my mom and I stopped over her house before it to wish her good luck. I wasn’t allowed to miss school, nor did I want to. I didn’t want to spend a day in the hospital worrying and I knew granny wouldn’t have wanted that, either. I knew she would be OK. She had to be. I walked into her bedroom where she was about to put on her shoes. I walked over as if nothing was wrong, but I saw her painfully bending down to tie the laces and I totally lost it. She looked up and smiled as if nothing were wrong, trying to hide her pain. Just like always, she was trying to make everything OK around me. I hugged her and cried on her shoulder, as I did a year earlier with the cheerleading incident. I knew my crying wasn’t helping, but I couldn’t stop. I told her I loved her and left feeling bad about crying in front of her.
I went to school that day in hope of a safe surgery and a healthy grandma. I found out after what seemed like the longest day of my life, that the surgery went well, but she still wasn’t the same. She was in and out of the hospital after that for months. Her health conditions went up and down. She started to change over the months she was sick. She lost her hair and her weight decreased, but the changes weren’t all physical. She was not the same spunky grandma I shared my childhood with. No more shopping trips, no more playing solitaire at the table watching Guiding Light. Most of her time was spent sitting in her recliner, taking pills and going to the hospital to try out different chemo treatments.
While all these things were happening, I was lost in my own world. So many things were changing, and I was realizing that things probably would never be the same again. The realization stung and every time I thought about life without my grandma, I couldn’t handle it. I finished my eighth grade year selfishly. I used to get so mad at myself for thinking the worst of the situation that I stopped going over there after school every day. I figured if I didn’t see it, I wouldn’t think about it. That was the worst decision of my life.
Summer came and went. I was excited to start high school. Fall came with high hopes of a brighter year, but my grandma’s health was just decreasing more and more. She could no longer walk without the help of a walker or do much of anything on her own.
One day in September, I had to stay home because I was getting teeth pulled. After the extraction, I stayed at my grandma’s house with my aunt. That day, Hospice came with a hospital bed and oxygen tank for my grandma. Her eyes lit up when she saw the bed because it came with a remote control and it would move up and down. She was always looking on the bright side, no matter what. Seeing her so happy and content over something that symbolized the end was near scared me, but I thought there could be hope for things to get better. A few days later, it was her birthday. We all got together to celebrate, even though my grandma couldn’t keep food down. To my surprise, she sat up in her bed and enjoyed the company. She even ate a piece of her favorite birthday cake – and it stayed down! I thought this was a for sure sign that things were about to get better.
I was so caught up in my teenage world of high school and denial that I didn’t even notice the end was so near. Not just the end to my grandma’s too short life, but the end of one of the most important parts of my own life.
Within the next week, I received a note from my mom during gym class tenth period. It said not to go home with my friend, but to wait for my mom to pick me up. I thought this was it. I thought she had passed away. I walked out of school that day prepared for the worst. My mom and my aunt informed me that it was not yet the end, but very close. They said she was in a coma and couldn’t speak, but could hear people talking to her. It would be sometime that night.
I couldn’t bear to see her that way and I was almost mad at my mom for bringing me there. I walked into the house and saw her lying there, breathing deeply, hands curled, body restless. I knew that wasn’t the grandma I knew. I could barely stay there for minutes. I was totally numb. I said my final goodbye to her gave her a kiss and went home. She died late that night.
At her wake a few days later, I was fine. The numbness had taken over my entire body. I didn’t cry. The lady laid out in the coffin was not my grandma. Her hair was never that color, and she never wore makeup. Then came the time for the final goodbyes; they took off the wig and replaced it with her favorite baseball cap she wore after her hair had fallen out. I then saw the grandma I knew, and completely lost it. From that moment on, the loss was real to me. I would never see her again. I would never hear her voice or her laugh, I would never feel her hug me. I would never taste her delicious chicken paprikash or help her with another crossword puzzle.
Sometimes I still forget she’s gone. When we go over my grandpa’s house I expect to see her there, dancing in the kitchen to Frankie Yankovich or playing solitaire at the table. I never have forgotten what see looks like, or the feel of her hands or the smell of the Suave lotion she used. She left me so many memories but none of them will ever replace her or the memories that we should have made.
The most amazing thing I learned about her was when my aunt told me once that a few days before she passed was that she told her to take good care of me because I was like a daughter to her. It was the hardest thing I ever had to hear. All the times I was a brat or didn’t listen came flooding back to me. I felt like an awful person, but I knew that she forgave me and I loved her even more for that.
Losing her was one of the hardest things I have ever had to go through. I can’t say I’m not still bitter, and I can’t say I don’t feel cheated. I sometimes talk about her like she's still here. I constantly wonder if she would be proud of me and what I've done with my life. Whenever I'm faced with a tough situation or decision, I wonder what she would tell me to do. Sometimes before falling asleep, I wish I would dream about her so I wouldn't feel so disconnected to her memory. I can't remember what her voice sounds like, but I remember how she looked when she smiled. I can't remember the way she said my name, but I can remember how her hands felt or what it was like to hug her.
From the time I was born, she was always there for me. I basically lived with her and my grandpa. She was my second mom. Before kindergarten started, I was there every day while my parents were at work. When I started going to school, she drove me every morning. I went to a Catholic school and when we passed the statue of Mary outside the church, we would recite a little poem we made up. It was “good morning, mother of God.” When I got home from kindergarten, each afternoon granny would make me lunch then take me upstairs for my nap with my pink bear, Bunny. Before each nap, we would read out of the latest Archie comic book.
I looked forward to seeing her and my grandpa every day after school. When I grew out of taking naps and began going to school for a full day, there was always a snack waiting for me when I got off the bus. In the spring it was iced tea or lemonade and in the winter it was hot chocolate with mini marshmallows.
My grandma was the most stable thing I had in my life, not to mention the strongest. No matter how bratty I was or how much I talked back or didn’t listen, she was always there for me, loving me more than before. I realize now this would be called “unconditional love.” When I didn’t make the cheerleading squad in seventh grade, I didn’t have to say anything; she just gave me a big hug and let me cry on her shoulder. She knew how to cheer me up.
One day in the summer of 1999, I noticed a slight change in my grandma. It was a Wednesday during the summer. I was waiting for my grandma to get ready to go grocery shopping (every Monday was Revco [now known as CVS], every Wednesday was Catalano’s.) An odd thing happened, she didn’t go. She seemed very tired. She didn’t even come to the kitchen table to play solitaire! She just sat in her chair weakly, watching TV. If you knew this woman, you would know this was completely out of character for her.
The fall came and I started eighth grade. My family was getting more and more cautious about my granny’s health. She was normally the healthiest person out of everyone. Once we went on vacation to Sawmill Creek and everyone came down with the flu except my grandma and I. While they were sick in bed, we were out enjoying our vacation. Now it was different, she was the sick one. My family decided to make my grandma go to the doctor and get checked out, even though she did not want to. I think we all had our own idea as to what she might have had. I just prayed it was something small, knowing my granny wouldn’t let me down and overcome whatever it was holding her back.
The results came back and it was cancer. Not just a small case, either. She had to have surgery right away. The day of the surgery, my mom and I stopped over her house before it to wish her good luck. I wasn’t allowed to miss school, nor did I want to. I didn’t want to spend a day in the hospital worrying and I knew granny wouldn’t have wanted that, either. I knew she would be OK. She had to be. I walked into her bedroom where she was about to put on her shoes. I walked over as if nothing was wrong, but I saw her painfully bending down to tie the laces and I totally lost it. She looked up and smiled as if nothing were wrong, trying to hide her pain. Just like always, she was trying to make everything OK around me. I hugged her and cried on her shoulder, as I did a year earlier with the cheerleading incident. I knew my crying wasn’t helping, but I couldn’t stop. I told her I loved her and left feeling bad about crying in front of her.
I went to school that day in hope of a safe surgery and a healthy grandma. I found out after what seemed like the longest day of my life, that the surgery went well, but she still wasn’t the same. She was in and out of the hospital after that for months. Her health conditions went up and down. She started to change over the months she was sick. She lost her hair and her weight decreased, but the changes weren’t all physical. She was not the same spunky grandma I shared my childhood with. No more shopping trips, no more playing solitaire at the table watching Guiding Light. Most of her time was spent sitting in her recliner, taking pills and going to the hospital to try out different chemo treatments.
While all these things were happening, I was lost in my own world. So many things were changing, and I was realizing that things probably would never be the same again. The realization stung and every time I thought about life without my grandma, I couldn’t handle it. I finished my eighth grade year selfishly. I used to get so mad at myself for thinking the worst of the situation that I stopped going over there after school every day. I figured if I didn’t see it, I wouldn’t think about it. That was the worst decision of my life.
Summer came and went. I was excited to start high school. Fall came with high hopes of a brighter year, but my grandma’s health was just decreasing more and more. She could no longer walk without the help of a walker or do much of anything on her own.
One day in September, I had to stay home because I was getting teeth pulled. After the extraction, I stayed at my grandma’s house with my aunt. That day, Hospice came with a hospital bed and oxygen tank for my grandma. Her eyes lit up when she saw the bed because it came with a remote control and it would move up and down. She was always looking on the bright side, no matter what. Seeing her so happy and content over something that symbolized the end was near scared me, but I thought there could be hope for things to get better. A few days later, it was her birthday. We all got together to celebrate, even though my grandma couldn’t keep food down. To my surprise, she sat up in her bed and enjoyed the company. She even ate a piece of her favorite birthday cake – and it stayed down! I thought this was a for sure sign that things were about to get better.
I was so caught up in my teenage world of high school and denial that I didn’t even notice the end was so near. Not just the end to my grandma’s too short life, but the end of one of the most important parts of my own life.
Within the next week, I received a note from my mom during gym class tenth period. It said not to go home with my friend, but to wait for my mom to pick me up. I thought this was it. I thought she had passed away. I walked out of school that day prepared for the worst. My mom and my aunt informed me that it was not yet the end, but very close. They said she was in a coma and couldn’t speak, but could hear people talking to her. It would be sometime that night.
I couldn’t bear to see her that way and I was almost mad at my mom for bringing me there. I walked into the house and saw her lying there, breathing deeply, hands curled, body restless. I knew that wasn’t the grandma I knew. I could barely stay there for minutes. I was totally numb. I said my final goodbye to her gave her a kiss and went home. She died late that night.
At her wake a few days later, I was fine. The numbness had taken over my entire body. I didn’t cry. The lady laid out in the coffin was not my grandma. Her hair was never that color, and she never wore makeup. Then came the time for the final goodbyes; they took off the wig and replaced it with her favorite baseball cap she wore after her hair had fallen out. I then saw the grandma I knew, and completely lost it. From that moment on, the loss was real to me. I would never see her again. I would never hear her voice or her laugh, I would never feel her hug me. I would never taste her delicious chicken paprikash or help her with another crossword puzzle.
Sometimes I still forget she’s gone. When we go over my grandpa’s house I expect to see her there, dancing in the kitchen to Frankie Yankovich or playing solitaire at the table. I never have forgotten what see looks like, or the feel of her hands or the smell of the Suave lotion she used. She left me so many memories but none of them will ever replace her or the memories that we should have made.
The most amazing thing I learned about her was when my aunt told me once that a few days before she passed was that she told her to take good care of me because I was like a daughter to her. It was the hardest thing I ever had to hear. All the times I was a brat or didn’t listen came flooding back to me. I felt like an awful person, but I knew that she forgave me and I loved her even more for that.
Losing her was one of the hardest things I have ever had to go through. I can’t say I’m not still bitter, and I can’t say I don’t feel cheated. I sometimes talk about her like she's still here. I constantly wonder if she would be proud of me and what I've done with my life. Whenever I'm faced with a tough situation or decision, I wonder what she would tell me to do. Sometimes before falling asleep, I wish I would dream about her so I wouldn't feel so disconnected to her memory. I can't remember what her voice sounds like, but I remember how she looked when she smiled. I can't remember the way she said my name, but I can remember how her hands felt or what it was like to hug her.
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| Grandpa and Grandma |
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| Granny and I - Halloween |
Now I can say that I have my own ultimate grandma and that makes me proud. I can’t wait to have kids of my own to share stories with them like my dad, aunts and uncle told me about theirs.
*Wrote this many years ago, then added a little bit and thought I'd share in the spirit of Thanksgiving and family.*
-D
