My grandmother is one of my favorite people. She had such strength in the midst of chaos. She demonstrated love when surrounded in a world of hurt. She was silly, goofy, faithful, and wonderful.
Last night I had a dream about my grandmother. In this dream, I was in her care facility, able to see her again, to smell her scent and touch her skin. For a brief moment, I had her here in my world, able to talk to her and feel her spirit once again. My grandmother, or Ladybug as I nicknamed her one day as a teenager, has been gone for 12 years. And for those 12 years I have never thought an ounce of regret for the times I spent with her before she passed.
Ladybug was born September 7, 1916. Her parents had immigrated from Germany before she was born, and settled in Windsor, Colorado. She was the oldest child in a family of several girls and one boy. Her life was not easy, not blessed, and not charmed. She had a father who was difficult at best, and did not share his love with her very often. Her brother died while in her care. She had a baby out of wedlock who died when she was an older teen. She later met and married my grandfather, Robert, in Los Angeles. Together they raised a family in Grand Junction, Colorado. She is a mother to 5 daughters - Eugenia, Roberta "Bobbie", Mary, Ruby, and Mina Lorraine. She is the grandmother to 9 grandchildren - Michael, Rob, Ruthe, Richie, Dawn Michelle, Robby, Bobby, Ray, and Michelle. She is the great-grandmother to 6 great-grandchildren and growing.
Growing up, we lived close to Ladybug off and on. I remember going to her house when my grandfather was still alive. I would walk into her house, hear sounds of "...and these are the days of our lives..." as she had a soap opera on television. My mother, walking out the door, would tell her "Please do not let Ruthie have any cookies, Mom," to which my grandmother in her infinite grandmotherly wisdom would say "Okay, Ruby." She would wait for the door to close, my mother's car to be out of her driveway, then say "Okay, she is gone...you know where they are!" My memories of my grandparents together, the places we would go, their car, the smells of their house, my grandfather becoming ill and eventually dying are still so close to my heart, but rarely a place I allow my adult mind to visit. I miss them both too greatly.
So many things changed around the time my grandfather died. My father became ill, required surgery for a rare but treatable tumor. He decided to leave the church he was pastoring. We moved from a parsonage to the only apartment we ever lived in growing up. My mother became pregnant, and later miscarried the baby. My grandfather had his leg amputated, and eventually passed away. My grandmother stayed with us for a while before we moved away to Kansas. My grandmother eventually moved to Houston to live with my mom's eldest sister, Eugenia. She had her own home for a while, just around the corner from my aunt's house. But eventually she needed to someone to be with her at the house, and not live alone. She would come to visit, tell me her silly Grandma stories I loved so much, and try to help my mother but really just annoy my mom more than anything. Annoy is not the right term, but in my grandmother trying to wash dishes, or do laundry, my mother had quite different ideas of what clean was. So funny, because now the tables have turned, and I sometimes suffer this same problem.
Ladybug suffered several strokes, medical issues that led her to live in the same town as we were in when I was going into the 7th grade. Due to not having enough room, my mother had to make the decision to create my grandmother's new home in a care facility. After this, my grandmother entered into different stages of who she was. At times she was funny, and sweet. Other times she was quiet, and sullen. She suffered more medical issues, and possibly the onset of Alzheimer's. Through it all though, she would always tell me she loved me.
My daughter is the only great grandchild my Ladybug met. The first time I watched my grandmother hold my daughter, I was awestruck at how young she looked again. She was 81 when Emi was born - her face and hands showed the signs of those years. Her hair was long since grey and cut short for easy maintenance. Yet, she looked so young in that very moment. She held her, cooed to her. She asked me when Emi was almost a month old if she was blowing "spit bubbles" yet. When I told her yes, she smiled, and told me "I love that when babies do that." She was mesmerized by her, and I was captivated by having 4 generations within the same room. Emi was 7 months old when Ladybug died. She will never know her scent. She will never really know her voice, the feel of her touch, the way she shuffled, or stood. She will never hear her sing a hymn, or any of her Grandma stories. This is the saddest fact of life - that those I love now do not get to experience the true essence of every moment I was able to spend with those from my past who are just as much a part of me.
My dream last night allowed me to wander into that place in my heart - the place I so lovingly remember, but never allow myself to visit often. I was able to see Ladybug smiling, walking, talking. I was able to have her here for a brief moment, then awake and realize she is still watching over me, seeing who I am as a person, daughter, mother, friend, and sister. I would hope the actions I take on a daily basis are making her smile, because her smile was beautiful.
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