Bye Joyce
My daughters' Gramma Joyce is dying.
Gramma Joyce is to my daughters what my grandparents were to me. She is the one who helped take them trick-or-treating, who made cookies with them every Valentines and Christmas, and dyed Easter eggs with them every Spring. They grew up going to Gramma Joyce's house almost daily. She always had a special treat ready for them in her fridge, be it only cheese and crackers or jello with whipped cream. She is that kind of gramma.
She's been an ornery old heifer from the get go, mean as a snake. I've never known her to waste politeness on anyone, and the concept of "politically correct" means absolutely zero to her. She's audacious way past the point of rudeness, and the girls think her hilarious because of it. Until recently she had boundless energy and the courage of a lion. She led a hard life and did just as she pleased without apology to anyone.
My girls are her favorites, her bright shining stars, and she's never made any bones about it. It wasn't fair to the rest of her grandchildren, but what a wonderful thing for my girls to be Gramma's favorites.
Anyway she's in the hospital with double pneumonia and her lungs are colonized with MRSA and she doesn't know sickum. She knew Jenn yesterday but mixed Anthony and Oliver up, her consciousness wandered and Jenn had to keep calling her back. I remember that from Gramma Noack's last hours. Today she didn't know Sharla's girls at all. The prognosis for her isn't very good.
Well, this will be my girls' first hard loss but it's inevitable. You lose your grandparents. They are replaced by your grandchildren. It's how it is meant to be.
The world will be a less interesting place when she's passed. Her loss will be deeply felt. I hope it is an easy and painless passing for her, and she is able to just quietly slip into the arms of her ancestors.
Gramma Joyce is to my daughters what my grandparents were to me. She is the one who helped take them trick-or-treating, who made cookies with them every Valentines and Christmas, and dyed Easter eggs with them every Spring. They grew up going to Gramma Joyce's house almost daily. She always had a special treat ready for them in her fridge, be it only cheese and crackers or jello with whipped cream. She is that kind of gramma.
She's been an ornery old heifer from the get go, mean as a snake. I've never known her to waste politeness on anyone, and the concept of "politically correct" means absolutely zero to her. She's audacious way past the point of rudeness, and the girls think her hilarious because of it. Until recently she had boundless energy and the courage of a lion. She led a hard life and did just as she pleased without apology to anyone.
My girls are her favorites, her bright shining stars, and she's never made any bones about it. It wasn't fair to the rest of her grandchildren, but what a wonderful thing for my girls to be Gramma's favorites.
Anyway she's in the hospital with double pneumonia and her lungs are colonized with MRSA and she doesn't know sickum. She knew Jenn yesterday but mixed Anthony and Oliver up, her consciousness wandered and Jenn had to keep calling her back. I remember that from Gramma Noack's last hours. Today she didn't know Sharla's girls at all. The prognosis for her isn't very good.
Well, this will be my girls' first hard loss but it's inevitable. You lose your grandparents. They are replaced by your grandchildren. It's how it is meant to be.
The world will be a less interesting place when she's passed. Her loss will be deeply felt. I hope it is an easy and painless passing for her, and she is able to just quietly slip into the arms of her ancestors.