This is my Grandma Byrd. (Yes, my maiden name was Byrd, and I married a Wolfe...) I think this picture was taken after she graduated from nurses training in 1951? Her life was before her. She was yet to marry her love, yet to birth 6 children and bury two of them, yet to rejoice in courier promotions, yet to battle depression, yet to love her grandchildren and great grandchildren, and yet to slide into frail health and suffer with diabetes and congestive heart failure.
I was the 1st of those grandchildren and the only girl until I was 11 (or 10, I don't remember). I remember her house always had fun foods (candy, hotdogs straight from the refrigerator, white bread that you could wad up into a dough ball and eat...) and the mini organ in the dining room that she would let me play. The best times were family gatherings, especially Christmas. She always had a STELLAR Christmas tree and there was always a gift for me under that tree. I remember she gave me my 1st record (
Huey Lewis and the News if you must know :) ) and an eye shadow palette that would put Tammy Fay Baker to shame, just to name a few. Those family gatherings would, so often, dissolve into the telling of old stories of my Dad and his siblings growing up. My Uncle Bill peeing on my Dad in the middle of the night, loud music in the basement, and the many motorcycle crashes and near misses. Grandma, never embarrased of how much her children got away with, would laugh and even add to the stories herself.
Since then I have moved away from my home town.
I've graduated from college, married my love, birthed 4 children and miscarried 2. But my roots, my Gma, have always been with me. When I look in the mirror I see her prominent brow and her eyes that look like "half-moons" when she smiled. I see her full cheeks and her thick, brown hair. I remember she and I commiserating over our small palms and stubby fingers. She would tell me, "those are working hands! they can get a lot of things done!" Even though my life has naturally continued to evolve I always knew she was there, proud of what I had accomplished.
But as always happens, this side of eternity , she died last Monday. I was able to be there for some of her last moments. I've been able to stand beside my family and share in the grief and sadness this last week.
It's surreal that she's gone. It's surreal that she isn't in her home, where she brought home her 2nd baby boy, my Dad. It's surreal that she isn't reading the words that I have typed on this blog. My Aunt told me that some of her last words was that she wanted to read my latest blog posts. One of the reasons I started this recording of my children's childhood was so that she could share in it with me, even though I was far away.
So she's gone. I don't really know what to do with that knowledge yet. It's a messy little bundle of emotions that are left behind. I want to be real with her memory. I don't want to sugarcoat things just to feel better. She was a complicated woman who made choices. But I know that she loved me and was intensely proud of me and my children. She coveted any visit when Mike, me and the kids would make it into town. She sent me
e-mails to encourage me and just to keep in touch. (whose 80 year old Grandma does
that!?!)
So right now, I just choose to keep everything simple, I choose to remember the one basic truth. That she was my Grandma, and I love her very much.
My kids were very excited to go and listen intently as the fireman explained and showed all his gear.
Then they were even able to climb up into quite a few of the trucks and look around at all the tools and gear. Lilia and John were having a great time. They loved climbing into the trucks and John's inquisitive brain was working over time. He didn't ask a lot of questions, but was up front, hanging on the fireman's every word.
Which, yes, they were handed out at the end. I guess that just goes to show that a nominal trip can always be salvaged with a good sticker and coloring book. SO glad that she's still at that age!
