You'd think I'd remember more about Grandma's life at this time in her life. I was alive for it, after all. And maybe it's not that I 'don't' remember, it's just that there's so much to remember, it's hard to do so in one little written segment.
She and Grandpa bought their first camper trailer and set off to discover America. They were sure to send all three of us grand-kids postcards and t-shirts from all the places they stopped. They wrote letters and took pictures so they could share their adventures with us when they came back home.
She was my confidante when they were home from traveling. She irrigated with us, she moved cattle with us, she branded with us. She taught me how to play poker, gin rummy, aggravation, and backgammon, and she'd listen to my growing up pains. She taught me how to sew and crochet granny squares. She could COOK!!!!
I remember more than once while working with the cattle or horses everyone thinking "We killed Grandma" only to have her pop up, madder and more than determined than ever. One particular memory is of a large Charolais steer that might have been as stubborn as Grandma. We'd finished branding for the day and because there was still daylight in the day we sorted him from the herd so to take him to the packer in the next couple of days. We had a rough time convincing him to stay in the corral by himself. He jumped - cleared by the way - three gates already. When we got him corralled one again, Grandma stood behind one gate thinking that'd be enough to sway his jumping again. It wasn't. The steer jumped over the gate, knocking her to the ground. Then, for no other reason than because he could, the steer turned around just as Grandma got back to her feet and jumped back over her an the gate knocking Grandma to the ground again. We were all surprised when she stood the first time but after the second time being knocked down we thought she had to have died. The steer jumped over another fence and headed north but we were too worried about Grandma to care about his direction. She stood up, shaking her first, and I believe that German brogue was coming out in her voice when she looked at my dad and told him he'd better catch that *insert German swearing here* because she was gonna enjoy every steak she ate outta him.
I remember admiring her strength and courage when Uncle Allen died - those many surgeries he'd gone through as a child finally got the better of his body. I remember that strength when she had her hips replaced. I remembered it again when we lost Grandpa to cancer. I remember her breaking for the first time I'd known her then and still thinking she strong. We were alone when she looked over at me and said - as though in apology for her tears, "You don't just forget 45 years over night." It couldn't have been easy for her but she wouldn't fall down, she wouldn't 'become the old lady'.
After Grandpa's death she continued her volunteer service for the VA in Truth or Consequences, NM. She continued helping with the annual Fiddler's Contest. She continued taking classes. She learned how to use the computer and learned about the internet. She emailed her family and friends, and started researching her own history. She had both of her knees replaced and she walked out of the hospital the same day. Yes, that's right, she had both knees replaced at the same time. Most doctors don't suggest doing that. Most weren't Grandma either. I was in the hospital with her when she had to have her middle finger removed. She wasn't afraid at all and was using the hand later that day. My dad said it was because she still couldn't feel anything but I was still in awe because I don't know too many people who would have moved the hand after the procedure, much less use it to hold her glass.
Yes, there's a lot of life that didn't get published, a lot of memories that might not get written down but the important thing to remember is that Grandma had 94 years of living - really living.
No comments:
Post a Comment