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Bye For Now, Grammy
My grandmother, Pearl, never said "goodbye". It was always "bye for now". I had asked her about it as a child why she said it, which she replied, because it's not goodbye forever, just for now until I see you again.
Pearl Audrey Cleverly (married surname, Page) passed away at home, where she had been living with my mom and step dad the last three or four years. We celebrated her 90th year this past March, the entire family in disbelief she made it this far.
For those who didn't know my Grammy, she was one of the most accident prone people who walked this earth. Whether it was separating two cats fighting and needing stitches on her arms and hands, accidentally knocking a hornets nest in her shed and ending up stung in the face and black eyes, the countless times she smacked her face or head on her low basement ceilings, crawling through her sheds and ending up with black eyes, she was in a terrible accident when she was younger and ended up with a gold tooth (Which had to be the coolest thing for a grandmother to have in my opinion), melting her slacks to her leg when burning leaves landed on her leg and literally melted the material of her pants into her skin... And probably another dozen or two things she either hid well or never bothered to tell us about... such as having a bad heart.
All the accidents combined was nothing compared to the terrible stroke she had eight years ago. While in church, a mix of a stroke and smacking her head so hard on the church pew (of all places for this to happen, am I right?) it left my strong, feisty, caring, unselfish Grammy with blood on the brain and an extensive hospital stay. Months of rehab, learning to walk, talk, and somewhat write again seemed like we'd never see a light at the end of the tunnel.
She surprised us all, doctors included, but never came back to the Grammy I "knew". Her memories were either fuzzy or gone completely, depending on the subject. She became frustrated easily when she couldn't find the word she wanted to use. She would cry when her brain wouldn't allow for her hand to write down what she wanted. It was heart breaking.
Over the last few years it improved, especially when my mom brought her home to take care of her. She seemed to had lost her filter and came out with the most hilarious or shocking things, leaving the family in stitches or wide eyed. Grammy NEVER spoke ill of anyone, never cursed, had a positive outlook on things (maybe not her own life sometimes, but who doesn't do that?), but she soon to let anything spill out of her mouth without a care. Perhaps making up for all those years of being too nice.
Two of the most hilarious conversations I had with her and I happily share to make others laugh are about my wedding photos and my last birthday.
I had finally gotten around and perfected (Ha!) my wedding album and brought it down for her to look at. We had gotten married in Ireland and she wasn't able to attend, so I assumed she'd be thrilled to see my photos.
Me: Grammy, I have my wedding photos. Would you like to see them?
Grammy: ***slowly turns her head to me*** Are they any good?
**ENTIRE table nearly dies of laughter**
Me: Um. I'd like to think so.
Grammy: Maybe another time. ***Gets distracted with something outside*** What is that?
Taylor (my brother in law): Oh, that's my side by side.
Grammy: That looks like fun!
Morgan (my sister): We can take you for a ride if you want sometime.
Grammy: I'd like that.
She actually never looked at my album, sadly. I put it off and she never asked. She had seen some of the photos mind you on the computer that my mom showed her, just not the same.
My mom called me for my birthday and said Grammy had told her she wished me a good year, so Mom suggested we call. First off, this was the first time since her stroke I spoke to her on the phone. Something I missed so much as I called her all the time growing up, while in college, or when I had moved to Ontario for a few years.
Grammy: What are you doing?
Me: Sewing
Grammy: Nothing? Why?
Me: No! Sewing. I'm sewing a dress for my birthday (Remember my last post about procrastination?)
Grammy: Is it up or down? (This is an perfect example of when her brain jumbled things)
Me: Black, it's a black dress.
Mom (in the background): It's Meghan's birthday!
Grammy: WHAT?
Mom: IT'S MEGHAN'S BIRTHDAY!
Grammy: Why do I care about Mabel's birthday? Who is Mabel???
Mom: WISH MEGHAN A HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Grammy: I don't know what she's doing. But you keep doing what you're doing, ok?
Me: I will (trying not to laugh).
So now the big family joke is they like this "Mabel" chick more than me and that everyone wants to look at Mabel's wedding album. Hilarious. Well... Kinda is.
Other than the ties she came out with things or made us laugh, I really try to remember how she was when I was growing up.
She'd take my sister and I strawberry picking every year. She'd joke we should be weighed on the way in and then out because we probably ate more than we picked. At Christmas, she would make sure everyone got the dessert they liked, which meant she had to make: Apple pie, chocolate pie, lemon pie, sugar pie, date squares and cherry pie. This doesn't include the rest of the food she made.
I remember she used to make my grandfather cheese and ketchup sandwiches and kept a candy dish filled with jelly beans. But it always seemed whenever I opened it, black licorice was the only ones left. She'd have pre-wrapped brownies that we all picked the nuts off of. The only function her microwave had was for storage. She never believed in using it, she had a stove. Anytime you searched for scissors, her glasses, needle and thread, stamps... check the microwave. She'd make the best shake'n'bake pork chops, fabric galore, the oddest knick knacks, her bedroom (which we'd sneak into because it always felt like a forbidden place to go) was bursting with framed black and white photos.
It's probably where my love of vintage and bygone eras came from honestly. I can close my eyes and still see the way her room was set up, her bureau and nightstands cluttered with gold frames of family members and friends that seemed from another lifetime.
I've re-read what I've written too many times now. I've come close to hi-lighting the entire post and smacking the delete button, thinking I'm not making sense, rambling on, or that it isn't quite perfect.
But if anything I learned from my grandmother, it was nothing is perfect. We are all far from it. So though this post may seem to ramble on, not having much of a beginning, middle, and end. Not following any formula, or sounding too much of a "Dear Diary", I just have to smack the "Publish" button instead.
