As a child, I saw her as this whirlwind with red hair. She was the person who let me bang the pots and pans outside on New Year’s Eve. She was the voice of reason when I wanted to sleep with my shoes on.
She always had Snack Pack pudding on hand.
As a child, she was my grandmother. She clearly had no other role in life except that in my young mind. As I grew older, I realized that she was also somebody’s child; she was a wife, a mother, a sister, a career woman when it was not ‘in’ to be one.
She was a widow.
As a teen, I watched this amazing woman care for her aging mother as well as a handicapped brother. All four of her children came back home to live with her at different points in their lives and she always had room for them (and their children).
As a girl verging on becoming an adult, I forged a relationship with this amazing woman that I never thought possible. In the wee hours of the night when it was just the two of us at home, we would talk – not granddaughter to grandmother, but woman to woman. At a time when I needed a non-judgmental ear, there she was.
As a woman, I watched her red hair fade and various shades of gray emerge. Somehow, it never made her look older. She swam in the pool with my children and was unafraid to be silly and play. My boys cherish their time spent with her because she always made each of them feel special.
As a woman living far away from home, I see her looking frail. Her gait is slower, her pains are greater. She overcame the loss of a husband, the loss of her parents and most of her siblings, but it is the time spent watching the loss of her own life that is the hardest.
As a woman, I cling to the child that I was and the memories of a lifetime being blessed to have this wonder woman in my life.
She always had Snack Pack pudding on hand.
As a child, she was my grandmother. She clearly had no other role in life except that in my young mind. As I grew older, I realized that she was also somebody’s child; she was a wife, a mother, a sister, a career woman when it was not ‘in’ to be one.
She was a widow.
As a teen, I watched this amazing woman care for her aging mother as well as a handicapped brother. All four of her children came back home to live with her at different points in their lives and she always had room for them (and their children).
As a girl verging on becoming an adult, I forged a relationship with this amazing woman that I never thought possible. In the wee hours of the night when it was just the two of us at home, we would talk – not granddaughter to grandmother, but woman to woman. At a time when I needed a non-judgmental ear, there she was.
As a woman, I watched her red hair fade and various shades of gray emerge. Somehow, it never made her look older. She swam in the pool with my children and was unafraid to be silly and play. My boys cherish their time spent with her because she always made each of them feel special.
As a woman living far away from home, I see her looking frail. Her gait is slower, her pains are greater. She overcame the loss of a husband, the loss of her parents and most of her siblings, but it is the time spent watching the loss of her own life that is the hardest.
As a woman, I cling to the child that I was and the memories of a lifetime being blessed to have this wonder woman in my life.
* The above is my entry to Scribbit's July Write-Away Contest. For more information on this contest (or need to know that you are not alone in your parenting adventures) go to http://scribbit.blogspot.com/search/label/contests .*
1 comment:
What a lovely tribute! She sounds wonderful for sure.
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