My 94 year old Grammy still lives on her own, which is what you do when you were born and raised in Maine because you don’t have enough money for assisted living and you can’t imagine waking up and not being in the house you bought 70 years ago.
This woman has an upbringing that makes you direct as all get out, say things without the filter (sometimes good and sometimes bad) and loves me to the ends of the earth. She isn’t PC and publicly says that I am her favorite grandchild to not only her other grandchildren but her kids too. Now granted this is earned-I have always made sure that no matter where I was or what was going on that I visit with them, send them letters, never forget her birthday and in general attempt to love her as much as she loves me.
Grams struggles every day with missing my Grampy who passed back in 2002. I don’t blame her, that man was extraordinaire-the very first car I bought I drove over to their house to show Grampy and he IMMEDIATELY popped the hood and taught me how to change my own oil. Then he gave me his wrench that fit the oil plug, a drip pan and a funnel and told me to bring him the dirty oil every time. To this day I still have that wrench in my glove compartment, while it doesn’t fit I simply can’t part with it.
Her sadness is palpable and has gotten worse over the last 2 years as she isn’t able to travel more than 20 minutes away from her hours without feeling nervous that she is too far away from a familiar bathroom. This really sucks as I live about 40 minutes away from her so she won’t get in my car and come over no matter how hard I beg for Thanksgiving, Christmas or any reason-I live outside her comfort zone which really breaks my heart.
She has mentioned on many occasions over the past 2 years that she is “ready to go” or that she has “outlived her body” and that she hasn’t “got much to live for anymore. ” And every time she has said that crap as I’ve sat at that table in her kitchen, I’ve wished I could give her something to live for. To be able to tell her that I need her to stick around because I’m going to have a baby and they need her to rock them while she’s holding their little feet and give them the Grammy love that I know changed me for the better.
Only I couldn’t. I could never share the happy news of my pregnancies-because I was afraid they would break her heart and only make her more sad. So I never told her, not once about being pregnant or losing Ava or any of the other shit that has happened over the past 2 years-that is until a week before I left for New Jersey in October. I finally came clean and told her everything and we cried while she cradled me in her arms and just like that everything was ok.
We stopped by to see Grammy last Friday after our 12 week ultrasound and took the gamble to finally share our news with her. She was of course thrilled, and scared as she doesn’t want anything bad to happen to me. She also informed me that she wasn’t thrilled with my commuting to Boston daily for work, nor the fact that I was working while pregnant. Given my history she felt it was better that I stayed home and just rested and not tempt the fates. She also grilled me on my diet and water consumption as well as my sleeping. I believe she did this no less than 4 times over an hours visit.
Apparently she felt I hadn’t paid enough attention to her wishes, so yesterday I am going through the mail from the week and see an envelope with my Grandmothers very distinctive writing so I open it up and here is what she wrote:
Best. Card. Ever!!!!