Day 8: A picture that makes you angry/sad

This is my grandma, Mary. Isn't she lovely? This picture makes me sad because I miss her.

I was named after her, but the two of us weren't very much alike. I know that perfectly well, because she lived with us for the 6 years before her death in 2005.

Having my grandmother in our home caused a lot of changes in our family, as well as a lot of growth. We tried to make our house in Lakewood work...my dad built a wheelchair ramp leading up the front steps, and my brother Jon gave up his bedroom and slept on the couch. My mom had just been considering going back to work since all her kids were now in school, but with my grandmother in the state she was in, that was no longer possible. There was a lot of sacrifice all around, but that's what you do for family, isn't it? And then my mom found out she was pregnant again, and we all knew our little 3-bedroom house wasn't going to cut it. So we moved, way out to the desert where houses were still cheap. I'll admit it, I cried. I was 13 years old, and had some of the best friends you could hope for. But I made new, wonderful friends and had other important experiences that shaped my life.

When my grandmother first came to live with us she was so weak she had to be spoon-fed and could not so much as lift her foot off the ground. She had been in a rest home, recuperating after a hospital stay, and it had not been good for her. After much patience and a lot of work, she eventually got to the point where she could walk with the assistance of a walker! It was wonderful to see her get so much stronger, and gain a little more independence. But it still wasn't easy. My dear mother spent so much time helping her. It was hard for her to have her mother-in-law constantly there, especially since I don't think you could find two more different personalities! But she dealt with it well--much better than I did.

I confess I didn't always have a happy attitude about it. Sometimes I resented having to change her diapers and sponge bathe her, clean up after her when she had accidents, or clean her dentures. What 15 year old does want to do that?! And she and I would get in arguments on occasion. It seems strange now, that I should argue with my grandmother, but we sure did! It's another reason thinking about my grandma makes me sad. I wish she could have seen me when I was an adult and more mature, and I could have apologized for being like that!

Through the course of all this though, something remarkable happened. I learned to love my grandma like I never thought possible. She and I would have conversations sometimes, as I got her ready for bed at night, and she looked so innocent and cute without her teeth in and with no glasses, that I couldn't help but smile. She would tell me about her life, and some parts of it made me so sad that I cried right then and there. A lot of her stories helped me understand her better, and I was proud of all she had done, and the mother that she had been for my father. I have an amazing dad, and I can see her influence in his life, particularly in his caring heart.

As my grandmother slowly declined again, we all knew that this time she was ready to go. Her husband had died of a heart attack on father's day (sad, huh?) and she was determined to hold out for mother's day. I'm not kidding. Every day she would ask if it was mother's day yet, and when it finally was, she let go. She died the next day, with my sister Laura, my dad, and I present. "I Need Thee Every Hour" was playing on her little stereo, and just as the phrase, "I come unto thee" rang out, my dad, who had been listening for her heartbeat, looked up at us and shook his head.

It was one of the most poignant and spiritual moments of my life.

We all cried. A lot. We knew she was ready to pass on, but that couldn't change the fact that we would miss her terribly. It hadn't always been easy to have her live with us, but I would not trade that experience for anything in the world.

I feel honored to be named after this woman. I love her so dearly.