(no subject)
My great-grandmother Mimi passed away yesterday after four days in the hospital. She was 92 years old, and she lived alone in her own home. She had told all of us that she wanted to be 96, or at least to wait until after George W. Bush was out of office, when she passed on.
Mimi was an independent and complex woman. She spent her teenage years in Littleton, attending high school in the original building on Crocker St. Her parents built a house on Santa Fe which is still standing today. Her only salaried job was working for Houston Waring at the Littleton Independent newspaper as assistant society editor. She also won a state wide acting competition.
She loved to read and she was very, very intelligent. Her library contains many classics, but what she really preferred were murder mysteries and books of intrigue.
She loved tennis. When I was 10 we took her with us on our family trip of the UK and she was able to visit Wimbledon. I had to sit in the middle seat in the car the whole trip because the velcro on my little brother’s tennis shoes kept running her stockings.
She loved to play with me when I was a little girl. She let me tear up a paper picnic table cloth and tie it up in our hair. She taught me how to crochet- even if I was stubborn and only wanted to fill the house with long chains of single stitches. She always sent us home from her house with a bag full of snacks and goodies from her immaculate pantry.
On Sunday she was aware long enough to tell everyone present, and even some who called concerned about her, that she loved us and she was going on to a different place. That was maybe the hardest time for me- to see her so loving and forgiving and aware that she was not going to recover. Early that evening she slipped into a coma.
The next few days were tense. We tried to anticipate her needs and keep her as comfortable as we could. None of us, not even the doctors and nurses, knew how long she would hang on. Her determination, however, was ingrained into the very fiber of her being. We kept leaving at night sure that she would pass in the nighttime calm and quite, but sure enough she was still with us in the morning.
Mid-afternoon yesterday, after the last great-grandchild was able to come and visit with her, Mimi passed on. She’s very special to me, and I will miss her very much, but I’m glad to know she’s no longer suffering. It’s a strange mixture of sadness and relief and exhaustion.
I love her very much.
Mimi was an independent and complex woman. She spent her teenage years in Littleton, attending high school in the original building on Crocker St. Her parents built a house on Santa Fe which is still standing today. Her only salaried job was working for Houston Waring at the Littleton Independent newspaper as assistant society editor. She also won a state wide acting competition.
She loved to read and she was very, very intelligent. Her library contains many classics, but what she really preferred were murder mysteries and books of intrigue.
She loved tennis. When I was 10 we took her with us on our family trip of the UK and she was able to visit Wimbledon. I had to sit in the middle seat in the car the whole trip because the velcro on my little brother’s tennis shoes kept running her stockings.
She loved to play with me when I was a little girl. She let me tear up a paper picnic table cloth and tie it up in our hair. She taught me how to crochet- even if I was stubborn and only wanted to fill the house with long chains of single stitches. She always sent us home from her house with a bag full of snacks and goodies from her immaculate pantry.
On Sunday she was aware long enough to tell everyone present, and even some who called concerned about her, that she loved us and she was going on to a different place. That was maybe the hardest time for me- to see her so loving and forgiving and aware that she was not going to recover. Early that evening she slipped into a coma.
The next few days were tense. We tried to anticipate her needs and keep her as comfortable as we could. None of us, not even the doctors and nurses, knew how long she would hang on. Her determination, however, was ingrained into the very fiber of her being. We kept leaving at night sure that she would pass in the nighttime calm and quite, but sure enough she was still with us in the morning.
Mid-afternoon yesterday, after the last great-grandchild was able to come and visit with her, Mimi passed on. She’s very special to me, and I will miss her very much, but I’m glad to know she’s no longer suffering. It’s a strange mixture of sadness and relief and exhaustion.
I love her very much.