Memories of Grandma

Her name is Ruby Irene Hart. She was one of the most fastidious people I have ever known. In all the time that I spent at her home, I never once saw a newspaper on the floor or a piece of mail on a table. As a kid I always knew that once I was finished playing with my toys, they were to be put away immediately. Grandma never had to yell. It was just understood that everything was always in its place.

With her hair and her clothes, every detail was just so. She had black hair and piercing green eyes and a slightly too large nose. She was not a raving beauty but attractive enough. She was not an extravagant person in appearance but always her clothes were neat and pressed. When she went mushroom hunting in the woods with my grandpa and me, she remarked that "someone should come out here and clear out all this brush." Everything in its place. Mess and disorder did not exist in her world.

When I think back on all the Christmas mornings and hot summer afternoons eating watermelon and the Easter sunday dinners, I don't remember her being much of a participant in the all too loud family conversations. Instead I remember her fussing with the food which was always spectacularly good and as any good country cook knows plentiful. She was always having a good time just watching her family.

And she was always busy. She knitted, crocheted, sewed and embroidered. She would sit and watch tv alongside Grandpa but always always had something to work on with her hands. Over the years, she made dresses for my cousins, pants and shirts for me and knitted afghans. When I was fifteen, my mom decided to redecorate my room in a bicentennial theme of red, white and blue. Grandma sewed a blue denim bedspread with red and white trim and two sets of curtains in white denim with red and blue trim to complement the bedspread. One year, she made all of her grandkids stuffed frogs from leftover fabric. Each kid had his or her frog made from something she had created for them. My grandfather kept complaining because everyone knew frogs were green. Guess what he got for his Christmas present that year. A green frog.
No one said she didn't have a sense of humor.

I am writing this because that terrible thief, Alzheimers has stolen her away from us. She is now in a nursing home. She sleeps long hours and when she is awake, she is not aware of her surroundings. When she recoginizes us, she holds out her arthritic hands to be held like a small child. Sometimes she doesn't recognize us and wants to go home but she has no idea of where home is anymore. It is an awful truth but it is only a matter of time until she leaves us for good.
The truth is it is only a matter of time for all of us until something takes us away from family dinners and hot summer afternoons eating watermelon and running and playing with children.