I held their hands as they drew their last breaths. Deep, silent, peacefully heartbreaking. Knowing they both wanted, needed to go, to leave this earth, to no longer be ill. Both grandparents, one from each side of my family, each meaning more to me than any prize possession, a little over two years apart. Two of the most influential people in my life. People I never wanted to disappoint. People that taught me so very much.
My papaw, he taught me how to drive…at eleven. He’s where I got my love for bowling. My insomnia. I got the skill of being able to sell things to people with ease. My papaw was a Ford car salesman for 50+ years. Not one of those creepy, leave me alone salesman. He was honest, and good and worked hard, he shook hands and followed up with people, he stood by his word. We drove around in silence, stopping at the country store for an ice cream cone. We could drive for hours. He yelled at me once. I never remember him yelling at me. “Do you know why we butt heads so much? Because we are so much alike” We then walked, hand in hand as I smiled and he squeezed my hand. He was right. We were alike, only I wished I were more like him.
He raised three boys, as am I. He was married to my mamaw for over 50 years. He was stern, stubborn, yet he loved like no other. Grandchildren were his weakness. He loved us deeply and we could do no wrong. I would tell him good night and he would lean his cheek towards me and say “a bushel and a peck” I would respond with “and a hug around the neck” As I got older, it was still our thing. I watched him get weaker. More sad. I watched him not care. Get angry. I watched him turn into someone he was not.
The day the ambulance came, Ill never forget it. I told everyone that he’d be ok, he was over-reacting, being dramatic. They flew him an hour away, the whole time I thought he would be ok, that Id get there and he’d open those blue eyes and in a day he’d be back home. I drove to that hospital every day but one for three weeks straight. He woke up one day, he spoke, he laughed. I sighed. I just knew all was going to be ok in my world again, he never gave up on me and I wasn’t going to give up on him. I was wrong. I covered him up, because he was always cold, my hand brushed against his foot and I knew, it was happening. He was cold. I held his hand and family gathered around and we said goodbye.
I miscarried on his birthday. Conceived a year later, the month he passed. I swear to anyone that Brennen is a gift from not only God, but from my papaw. He knew my heart and he knew I needed Brennen. Some days I jokingly call him Jim, because there are so many things that he does that mimics my papaw. My only regret is that they never had the chance to meet one another.
My Gram passed last year. I cant even believe its been a year already. It still seems so raw. Sweetest most hard working woman I have ever known. She raised seven kids on her own. Seven. She was glue. Absolute glue to our huge family. She taught me how to cook…some things, or maybe just taste them and know if they were good or not. Always in the kitchen. She gave me precious memories. Stories of southern culture, southern women. I inherited her love for the beach, the ocean blue, as did the rest of her family.
I thought she was so cool because when I was a kid she sold pagers, back when pagers were rare, before cell phones…she then got a “car phone” she was the coolest grandmother on the planet! She always had certs in her car, the cinnamon ones would burn like fire, but I always ate one because I thought they were candy. She use to have a pair of tanning bed glasses in her car, they looked like alien goggles, I thought it was so neat that my GRANDMOTHER went to the tanning bed. There were two things you could always find in her kitchen- goldfish and pecan sandies.
Gram would let me build forts under her kitchen table, with all the blankets in the house and not get mad that I was creating a huge mess. Her hands were always cold, yet well manicured. She smelled like heaven, cache lotion, it was the best smell on earth. She had the softest skin. She hated when my hair was in my face. Wish she were here right now to tell me to move it away from my face, to run her fingers through it. She had a Polaroid camera that I believed was another amazing invention because- oh my gosh, automatic pictures!
She is the reason I wanted a big family. She told me that I was her first grandchild, that taught her how to love her grandchildren. Maybe I was a little but of trial and error, but in reality, she taught us all how to love. To love our children, to love each other. She was an avid reader, loved Alabama football and Christmas time. Her mind started to slip. To wander aimlessly through decades as it searched for some sort of memory. It was as if her mind was a snow globe. Like someone was shaking it, and when it settled everything was there, just misplaced..nothing where it should be. She may have known that I lived in Tennessee, but had no clue what my name was. It was difficult. To watch someone so very strong, that never needed anyone to take care of her, need so very much.
When my mom called and told me it may not be long, that if I felt I needed to say goodbye, I needed to come now, I never actually thought that would be it. I drove down by myself, leaving my family, arriving at the nursing home before going anywhere. I sat with her as did other family members. She looked better than she had in months. I had that gut feeling. I had been in this spot not long before and I knew. The next day as my cousin and I sat by her bedside so the family could go tie up lose ends, she opened her eyes. Wide. She gasped for air. We had everyone come back to the nursing home, it wouldn’t be long. She faded. In and out. She had waited until each of her children said their goodbyes at various times. She took her last breath and we said goodbye.
When I think of them my heart aches, yet it smiles, I am so very blessed to have known them, to call them my grandparents.
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