Mothers Day
I remember my Mom telling me the story. One Valentines Day when she was a little girl living over on 7th Street in Charlotte, no older than 8 years old, there was this little boy who lived a few blocks up the street. She had a big crush on the little boy who always seemed too shy to say anything.
One time, just before Valentines Day, my grandmother said, "Look what I found in the door this morning." It was a Valentines card for my Mom from a secret Valentine. She said to my mom that she thought maybe the little boy had stuck it in the door that morning.
Later that night, after the family went to bed, my mother snuck out of bed, went downstairs and made a card for the the little boy. Then she crept out into the night and made her way down the street, hiding behind bushes and trees along the way. "Things were different back then" she remarked, "it was the 1950's. Doing such a thing wasn't as dangerous back then as it is today."
She made it to the little boy's home and stuck the card in the door just behind the storm door. Then made her way back home, all proud of what she had done.
When she got home she pulled out the card the little boy had made for her and just marveled over it. Suddenly, it struck her that the card was made from the very same construction paper that they had at the desk in the living room. She realized Granny had made the card for her.
It was starting to get light outside by the time she made the realization. She feverishly made her way back down the street to recover her error from the little boy's door. Fortunately, no one had come out of the door of the little boy's house by the time she made it back. As stealthy as she could, she recovered the card and fled home.
She never let on to Granny that she had figured out what she had done.
This past Valentines Day, my mother felt the need to tell me this story. Today on Mothers Day, almost a month since my grandmother passed away, I couldn't help but think of the story. This morning after I woke and called my mom to wish her a happy Mother's Day, felt the need to share that story and a few other things.
It's the first time I've felt like writing about it.
Her whole life, my grandmother had been known for being a sweet and gentle person. It's not just the kind of thing people say after someone passes -- it's all she was even known to be. In her final years, my grandmother had to move into an assisted living home. She seemed to enjoy the place and was very popular. She apparently had the hang out room. Nurses, other residents and maintenance people were allows coming by and hanging out and I remembered on a few occasions when I called my grandmother, I felt rushed because she seemed so eager to get back to her social life. "Oh, well that's nice Honey. Okay this must be costing you a fortune. I love you. Bye" even while you could hear people in her room in the background...
We could somehow never get her to understand how cell phones had free long distance. Granny was always a bit ditzy.
After she passed, several people who lived there couldn't bring themselves to go down to the room. It was just too hard. One maintenance man who constantly came by her room, fixed things and then would tease her a little or just hang out and talk. He called her "Queen Helen". He constantly joked with her about how one day he was going to give a bill for all the stuff he had fixed for her (the residents didn't actually get charged for such things).
Many of the people from Wesley (the place where she lived) showed up for the funeral and the viewing. Even this one older guy who had met my grandmother many years before when she was just a little girl. They had lost touch but they met again while she was living at Wesley and he was visiting a relative who was also a resident. Even after his relative passed on, he would continue coming to Wesley every day or so when he had time to visit her.
It was such a surprise when she passed. She went so quickly. Granny started having flu-like symptoms around Christmas and just never got better. The it was discovered that a small bit of breast cancer, once thought beaten, had spread all into her bones. She even had a large mass in her spine. A week before she died, my mother called to tell me she had maybe six months... maybe less.
Right after Granny died my mother went to collect a few of her things. On her bed she found a hand written note on notebook paper. It read, "To Queen Helen" and it had a list of things that had been fixed with dollar amounts out to the side. It ended with, "God bless you!" For days afterwords, anytime someone saw the maintenance guy going about his business, he was always crying. We put the note along with several pictures in a pocket on Granny's gown the morning of the funeral, right before they closed the casket.
My biggest regret is that I never moved back home in time to spend even a few of the last months with her. I always thought I had more time. Then one day I was being told there wasn't that much time left. I started making arrangements to take a week off work to just go spend time with my Granny.
And then, just as suddenly, time simply ran out.
I still think about all the days when I was a teenager I would go spend time at her place and she would cook me eggs (my favorite food before I developed a severe allergy to egg yolks). I still think about the voicemail she left on my phone this year on my birthday wishing me a happy birthday, just weeks before she died. I called her back right after I missed the call, but I never had the heart to delete the voicemail.
On this Mother's Day, I can't help but think of all the people who my grandmother touched.
I just miss her so much. I know she's watching me now. All I want to do is make her proud.
One time, just before Valentines Day, my grandmother said, "Look what I found in the door this morning." It was a Valentines card for my Mom from a secret Valentine. She said to my mom that she thought maybe the little boy had stuck it in the door that morning.
Later that night, after the family went to bed, my mother snuck out of bed, went downstairs and made a card for the the little boy. Then she crept out into the night and made her way down the street, hiding behind bushes and trees along the way. "Things were different back then" she remarked, "it was the 1950's. Doing such a thing wasn't as dangerous back then as it is today."
She made it to the little boy's home and stuck the card in the door just behind the storm door. Then made her way back home, all proud of what she had done.
When she got home she pulled out the card the little boy had made for her and just marveled over it. Suddenly, it struck her that the card was made from the very same construction paper that they had at the desk in the living room. She realized Granny had made the card for her.
It was starting to get light outside by the time she made the realization. She feverishly made her way back down the street to recover her error from the little boy's door. Fortunately, no one had come out of the door of the little boy's house by the time she made it back. As stealthy as she could, she recovered the card and fled home.
She never let on to Granny that she had figured out what she had done.
This past Valentines Day, my mother felt the need to tell me this story. Today on Mothers Day, almost a month since my grandmother passed away, I couldn't help but think of the story. This morning after I woke and called my mom to wish her a happy Mother's Day, felt the need to share that story and a few other things.
It's the first time I've felt like writing about it.
Her whole life, my grandmother had been known for being a sweet and gentle person. It's not just the kind of thing people say after someone passes -- it's all she was even known to be. In her final years, my grandmother had to move into an assisted living home. She seemed to enjoy the place and was very popular. She apparently had the hang out room. Nurses, other residents and maintenance people were allows coming by and hanging out and I remembered on a few occasions when I called my grandmother, I felt rushed because she seemed so eager to get back to her social life. "Oh, well that's nice Honey. Okay this must be costing you a fortune. I love you. Bye" even while you could hear people in her room in the background...
We could somehow never get her to understand how cell phones had free long distance. Granny was always a bit ditzy.
After she passed, several people who lived there couldn't bring themselves to go down to the room. It was just too hard. One maintenance man who constantly came by her room, fixed things and then would tease her a little or just hang out and talk. He called her "Queen Helen". He constantly joked with her about how one day he was going to give a bill for all the stuff he had fixed for her (the residents didn't actually get charged for such things).
Many of the people from Wesley (the place where she lived) showed up for the funeral and the viewing. Even this one older guy who had met my grandmother many years before when she was just a little girl. They had lost touch but they met again while she was living at Wesley and he was visiting a relative who was also a resident. Even after his relative passed on, he would continue coming to Wesley every day or so when he had time to visit her.
It was such a surprise when she passed. She went so quickly. Granny started having flu-like symptoms around Christmas and just never got better. The it was discovered that a small bit of breast cancer, once thought beaten, had spread all into her bones. She even had a large mass in her spine. A week before she died, my mother called to tell me she had maybe six months... maybe less.
Right after Granny died my mother went to collect a few of her things. On her bed she found a hand written note on notebook paper. It read, "To Queen Helen" and it had a list of things that had been fixed with dollar amounts out to the side. It ended with, "God bless you!" For days afterwords, anytime someone saw the maintenance guy going about his business, he was always crying. We put the note along with several pictures in a pocket on Granny's gown the morning of the funeral, right before they closed the casket.
My biggest regret is that I never moved back home in time to spend even a few of the last months with her. I always thought I had more time. Then one day I was being told there wasn't that much time left. I started making arrangements to take a week off work to just go spend time with my Granny.
And then, just as suddenly, time simply ran out.
I still think about all the days when I was a teenager I would go spend time at her place and she would cook me eggs (my favorite food before I developed a severe allergy to egg yolks). I still think about the voicemail she left on my phone this year on my birthday wishing me a happy birthday, just weeks before she died. I called her back right after I missed the call, but I never had the heart to delete the voicemail.
On this Mother's Day, I can't help but think of all the people who my grandmother touched.
I just miss her so much. I know she's watching me now. All I want to do is make her proud.