Sleepyjane posted a recipe today that her grandmother used to make. In her lead up to the actual posting of the recipe she described her grandmother a little and mentioned that whenever she tries to replicate the recipe “it just never tastes the same you know?”. Oh, I know that feeling well, Sleepyjane.
When my brother and I were little, my mother, being a single mother (funny how history repeats itself) relied a lot of her parents to help raise Steve and me. Every morning we would walk down the block to Grandma & Grandpa’s house for breakfast. Mom would take off for work, and Steve and I would get ready for school. Before her arthritis crippled her, my grandmother would walk us to school. In the winter months she would drop us off and pick us up. I remember running out the door from school and glancing toward the street. My grandma would be sitting in her big brown Chrysler, reading a book and waiting for us. We would go back to her house, she would make us a snack and help us with homework. My mom would come back to their house, we’d all eat dinner together and then walk back home.
When a birthday rolled around, Grandma would make the cake and would ask the birthday child to decide on the menu for that evening. Inevitably, Steve and I would ask for grandma to make hamburgers for our birthday dinner. I don’t know what she did to make them taste so wonderful, but I cannot repeat it to this day, no matter how hard I try. When we stayed home sick from school, she would make us chicken soup and melted cheese. Melted cheese consisted of slices of bread laid on a cookie sheet, block cheese sliced and placed on top, then popped in the oven till the bread was toasted a beautiful golden color and oozed cheese off the edges. Oh my mouth is watering just thinking about it.
My grandmother was a large woman (it runs in the family) and I recall curling up next to her on the couch and reading quietly side by side. Grandma is the reason I have a love affair with romance novels. I believe she kept Harlequin Romance in business back in the late 90’s. She would have a bag stuffed with books she had finished reading in the pantry closet off the kitchen. I would go in there, especially during summer and borrow one of her cast off books and loose myself in whatever plot line the book served up. Raunchy Renaissance Pirate anyone?
In 1997 my grandmother got very sick and began loosing weight very rapidly. I have vague memories of her hardly eating, but when she did nibble on something she was unable to keep it down. At the end of October that year, she was hospitalized and we were told she had cancer. The prognosis wasn’t very good as the cancer had spread rapidly from her liver to her pancreas. The doctors estimated 6 months at the most. Mom, Steve, and I visited every day while Grandma was in the hospital. She tried her very best to be alert and cheerful when we arrived, and she would let us tend to her. I would brush her dentures and comb her hair. Steve would change her socks and rub her feet.
In early November, things started to go down hill. I had gone down to the hospital cafeteria to get something for dinner when I heard my name being paged. I ran back to grandma’s room to find that she’d had a heart attack and was in a coma. Steve and I were pulled out of school and we stayed at her bedside as long as visiting hours allowed. One morning, I was tired of being surrounded by a halo of grief and sorrow so I called a friend and asked if she would pick me up from the hospital. I went back to her house and tried to keep my mind occupied. My mother called a few hours later to tell me that grandma had passed away. She’d never once awoke from her coma. I was devastated, and carried a lot of guilt about not being there for her last moments. It took me a very long time to get over the hole was was left in my heart. Mom & I ended up going to counselling for a few months to deal with our grief. I sometimes wonder what my grandmother would have to say about how my life has turned out. Would she be proud of me? Would she have approved of my marriage to Mike? Would she be proud of my daughter and how I was raising her? Often at night when I have finished praying, I talk to my grandma. I feel as though that helps me keep her memory alive and keeps her close to my heart. She was an amazing lady and it’s hard to believe she’s been gone 10 years now.
Occasionally I wonder if grandma would have survived her cancer, had it held off for a few years. Cancer research has pioneered many new and innovative treatment methods, perhaps one of those options could have saved her. My grandmother’s battle with cancer is the reason that Hailey and I are doing the “Buddy’s Race Against Cancer” on November 11th. This will be the 2nd year we have participated, and both of us are looking forward to it. We have been prowling the neighborhood soliciting donations. 100% of the money we raise goes to the Thompson Cancer Survival Center. They provide free or low cost, life saving cancer treatments to thousands of people. So far, the generous people in my apartment complex have donated over $100 and counting.
I love you Grandma, and I miss you every day.
