Grandma Bea
Yesterday morning due to complications with a heart bypass my grandmother on my fathers side died. Grandma Bea. A tough ol lady. Always poor, always working hard, married an alcoholic how passed 25 years prior to her. Her death was a release from a lot of suffering and limitations put on by the 82 years, but I still find myself hurting and yearning for it not to be. As per other encounters with loved ones dying I feel more than ever that the grieving process is a selfish endeavor. A loss of mine, not hers. A loss of our family's matriarch that pulled her offspring back for holidays. In all likelyhood we will lose touch with the rest of my uncles and cousins on that side. They never were very close or emotional. Hell, she didnt hug.
In the last few years the best part about her wasnt her company (as bad as this sounds) but a reason for us to squish into a car and drive. We would see her, talk a bit, listen to her straight up answers to what the hell we are doing with our life. Get informed about all the other people in the family, who made their annual journey to her home each year, at least once. We were in family time mode for a greater purpose...purpose being to give company for an elderly mother/grandmother/greatgrandmother. We became a single unit, my parents being shrunk down closer to our status...with her reigning from her chair. She couldnt walk very well, she couldnt see very well, she couldnt hear very well...but the woman had a brain that ticked just as fine as ever. Sharp she was. Sharp in her comments too. Heh, as practical as they come. Suppose thats due to a hard life working on a farm, bearing and raising 5 sons, and being a widow for as long as being a wife.
Strong Catholic lady with Jesus adorning the walls, never believed in drinking, despite having lived with a man who did that far too much.
My childhood was rather uneventful, and in many ways because of this very happy. One of the constants and one of the the largest events was the summer (or occasional christmas) trip to Herford, TX to see Grandma Bea. The panhandle in the summer was dry and blessedly cool. We took loong walks together for something to do. We saw my father in the context of his childhood backdrop and how he treated his mother. We heard stories of farm equipment accidents and chased praire dogs down their tunnels. We threw darts, rode bikes, Dad and Steve caught rattlesnakes, we pestered my uncle to use the YMCA he managed. There is an abandoned house we walked to and explored every year, finding something new each time. Caught skinks that lost thier tails in the process. Found ourselves in the middle of nowhere basically, with only ourselves for company. Sometimes it was really boring, sometimes it was really intense.
Each one of these weeks was the most travel I did all through my childhood. (except for one exception to Carlsbad Caverns) All to see the Knabe matriarch. That generation is now extinct. My parents are now the grandparents and I am an adult. And time keeps moving. And things keep changing. And a part of the family will never be back except in memories that aren't enough to instill the obligatory journey to Herford. And I am very sad.
Think I will stop there. Can thing of many positive things to say that are true and pertinent, but thats not what this is about.
In the last few years the best part about her wasnt her company (as bad as this sounds) but a reason for us to squish into a car and drive. We would see her, talk a bit, listen to her straight up answers to what the hell we are doing with our life. Get informed about all the other people in the family, who made their annual journey to her home each year, at least once. We were in family time mode for a greater purpose...purpose being to give company for an elderly mother/grandmother/greatgrandmother. We became a single unit, my parents being shrunk down closer to our status...with her reigning from her chair. She couldnt walk very well, she couldnt see very well, she couldnt hear very well...but the woman had a brain that ticked just as fine as ever. Sharp she was. Sharp in her comments too. Heh, as practical as they come. Suppose thats due to a hard life working on a farm, bearing and raising 5 sons, and being a widow for as long as being a wife.
Strong Catholic lady with Jesus adorning the walls, never believed in drinking, despite having lived with a man who did that far too much.
My childhood was rather uneventful, and in many ways because of this very happy. One of the constants and one of the the largest events was the summer (or occasional christmas) trip to Herford, TX to see Grandma Bea. The panhandle in the summer was dry and blessedly cool. We took loong walks together for something to do. We saw my father in the context of his childhood backdrop and how he treated his mother. We heard stories of farm equipment accidents and chased praire dogs down their tunnels. We threw darts, rode bikes, Dad and Steve caught rattlesnakes, we pestered my uncle to use the YMCA he managed. There is an abandoned house we walked to and explored every year, finding something new each time. Caught skinks that lost thier tails in the process. Found ourselves in the middle of nowhere basically, with only ourselves for company. Sometimes it was really boring, sometimes it was really intense.
Each one of these weeks was the most travel I did all through my childhood. (except for one exception to Carlsbad Caverns) All to see the Knabe matriarch. That generation is now extinct. My parents are now the grandparents and I am an adult. And time keeps moving. And things keep changing. And a part of the family will never be back except in memories that aren't enough to instill the obligatory journey to Herford. And I am very sad.
Think I will stop there. Can thing of many positive things to say that are true and pertinent, but thats not what this is about.