My Grandma was born November 3, 1924, and passed away on December 4, 2010 after over a month in the hospital, and many ups and downs. She had her 86th birthday in the hospital, roused enough to be moved to a rehabilitation center for a short while, then ended up back in the hospital on life support for a stretch, only to make another comeback. I think she once again proved what we already knew. That she was an inwardly strong woman, determined, not one to give up.
My sisters were able to visit her in the hospital about 12 hours before she left this earth, and while she wasn't opening her eyes or responding, there was one incident that they shared that brought both laughter and tears to my eyes.
If you knew my Uncle Billy, who still lived with my Grandma, you'd know that they had an interesting relationship. Sarcasm (Pittsburgh-style) was woven thru many of the fibers of their relationship, and if there was a jab to be made, it was (both ways). So that afternoon at the hospital, my uncle told my sisters that she wasn't speaking because she was mad at him. So my sister said "Grandma, you're not mad at Uncle Billy, are you?!!" and underneath the oxygen mask and other medical paraphernalia , they saw her shake her head no. For some reason this made me laugh...it was just like Grandma to still have some luster in her, and at the same time it brought tears to my eyes, the silent acknowledgement of love.
My Grandma Barclay ("Grandma Barky" to me as a little one) wasn't your typical soft, squishy, lovey dovey Grandma. She was more of the spit-fire variety. She told it like it was. There were no bushes to be found in her world, and if there had been, she wouldn't have ever been caught beating around them, haha. She was one to tell you, point blank, that she really didn't care for the flowers that you had brought her, or didn't like the candy you'd given her, or that you were 15 minutes later than you were supposed to be. And you certainly knew that there were certain hours to never call or visit...like before 1:00pm or while her stories (soaps) were on.
So what kept bringing me back to visit her summer after summer? First of all, you knew that even though she found it hard to show, that your visits meant something to her. You may not have known at the time how appreciative she was to see you, but you would most definitely hear about it if she felt like we hadn't made time for her. She would also comment to my mother on what a nice picture i had sent of the kids, or what some gesture i had made meant to her.
She would take the time to ask the kids how they were doing, and would often leave our visits with something that she knew you would make good use of, whether it was an old barbie doll or troll doll (haha), her old knitting needles and yarn, her keyboard gifted to her musically interested great-granddaughter, or some other sort of treasure. It seemed to be her way of silently showing her love. When I was about 12, she gave me an art easel for a gift, and while i remember feeling disappointed at the time, i can appreciate that she saw a gift in me at that point that even I didn't see.
And she *was* our extended family growing up. If there was any family to come visit over the holidays, it was her. I still remember the trips that we made with her as a child...Sea World, Lake Erie, Niagra Falls. She gave us a chance to see the world outside of our four walls. Little did she know that those first tastes of travel would nudge me towards future missionary trips that would take me across the world.
She worked hard as a single mother of 3, to give her children a better life. My Mom said that she didn't complain, and that they never fully realized at the time the hardships they had lived with. When her body had allowed her, my Grandma used to golf, bowl, swim, and get out and enjoy life. A family member reminisced that she was a 70's woman in the 50's. >smile<
There are two pieces of jewelry that I will always treasure. The first is a gold heart ring that she gave to me for my 16th birthday, 21 years ago.
The second is a necklace I gave her for her 80th birthday. Although I am unable to attend her Memorial service, it touches me to know that it was chosen for her to wear. Rest in peace, Grandma.
