Time has passed for her too, I could see, and with her eyesight failing, her hearing weakening and her walking more and more unstable, I couldn't help to feel, This could be the last time I see this dear woman. Years have worn on her, and 89 years can't come without some wear and tear. She made such a sweet lunch for my family of seven, including snacks and desert, and while I wished we could have taken her out for lunch somewhere, she insisted that we stay and enjoy each other in her home.
Washing her dishes after lunch, while she visited with the children, I made every effort to do a throughough cleaning job of her stove top, counters and sink, however quick and unnoticed. For someone you love, who can't see as well as they used to, you help them, however discreetly, in order to elevate their dignity.
She had little gifts made for the children, giving each child something she had sewn and rosaries made from her own necklaces that she had worn over the years. We sat in her family room, said a decade of the rosary, and it seemed, we were all good company. We understood each other, without needing to cover the last three years of lost time. There was a common bond there, and as she recalled events of 10 years ago, losing her son in a car accident, my uncle, she began to cry fresh tears, as though just yesterday she had heard the news.
In talking with her, I came to realize, how sharp her mind truly was, up to date on current events, social dynamics, politics, even the Royal Wedding and the beatification of JPII. I found myself, watching her walk slowly with her flower decorated cane, and as I offered to help her, she refused, mentioning how walking about her house is great exercise for her aging legs. Her body, though, is slowly realizing her age, and though her mind won't follow, she is a fighter. The strength in this fraile body, her spirit, her willingness to keep living and moving, is admirable. This matriarch won't go without a fight.
Before we left, I walked down her halls to find the washroom, and the same family photos are hung down that hallway, the same scents are lingering in each room, and her habit of keeping bows and wrapping paper still alive and well. As much as time passes for us all, and her too, some things will never change. She will always be the one to welcome you home. She will always have something ready for you to take with you. She will be the one to hug you good-bye while wiping your hands with holy water. She'll bless your car for safe travels and wave and yell, "I love you!"
It was tough to leave as conversation went on and HH was waiting in the van with the children. Finally I had to hug her one last time, and I fought that clutching feeling in my chest, as my heart twinged a bit in pain.
I told her how glad I was that we could have this time together, and her response, "I've enjoyed every minute of it. Thank you for coming."
And then it struck me. She lives in the now. She enjoys the minute she's in, as she knows too, her time is limited. Isn't it for us all?
When would I see her again. Four hours of a drive is tough with young children especially on winding roads, and two girls who tend to get car sick.
We drove home mostly in silence as the week of activites had drained the children behind me, and as some slept, I gazed outside my window and offered this long drive for the health of my grandmother. She has so much to give, and I felt as though our few hours could never soak up enough of her wisdom, understanding or compassion.
She's an inspiration. I admire her so.
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