Over the River and Through the Woods

Last week I went to Missouri to see my grandma. My mom went, too. And my sister and her children. And I took my son.

I haven't seen my grandma in three years. We write letters and send an occasional email.

In 2009, my other grandma died. I guess those things happen. But that left this grandma as my only.

I know I'm lucky to be 26 and still have a grandma. I know that people grow old. I know about the circle of life.

But it saddens me to see my grandma walking with a walker and to hear her say that she doesn't have the energy to hang out for more than an hour. It saddens me that in three days I only saw her for two whole hours. It saddens me that, because Grandma now lives in a nursing home, we could not wake up together and have breakfast in our pajamas at her kitchen table.

Grandma isn't sick. She's just old. I am glad for her that she is in good health, that her mind and spirit are well. My other grandmother died the long, painful death that comes with lung cancer. For months, she couldn't breathe without a machine. She could barely speak and the words she did manage came out in weak grunting form.

I want Grandma to be vibrant again. I want her to want to bake and sew and craft. I want her to visit Florida. I want to walk on the beach with her. Just like I want my other grandma to tell me more stories. I could never get enough of her quoting Shakespeare and recounting our family's fascinating history. I could never play enough Scrabble at her dining room table. I could never eat enough 3-hour breakfasts (Granmdma was the Queen of long, slow meals.)

Legacies are built from vibrant lives.

And lives must end, even the vibrant ones.

I am blessed for such good grandmothers. I am happy to have their influences on my life.

In my granmother's nursing home a plaque hangs on the wall near her door: SIT LONG. TALK MUCH. LAUGH A LOT.

Okay, Grandma.