For the first time in awhile, I took my family to church. It was the 2nd Advent Sunday this year and I started by proposing it to my seven-year-old, Emma. Once Emma was on board, I had her work on her Grandmother. Once Grandma was on board, we all influenced the men; my Dad, my husband and son crashed down like dominos and before too long we were sitting in our ‘family pew’.
As I was sitting there, pleased at myself for conspiring to bring our family to church instead of letting yet another lazy Sunday roll by, I was struck by how much I missed my own Grandmother. I looked down the pew at my children, my husband and my parents and I remembered coming to church throughout my life and sitting in that same pew with my Grandmother. That was where I could find her every Sunday. I would come in from the back and see her; her hair in a perfect coif of silver curls. She was tiny, only 4’ 11” tall and yet she was bigger than life to me. As I looked at my family that Sunday, I found the memory of my Grandma overwhelmingly poignant. Christmas was always one of her favorite times of year. I find it fitting to write about her during this time of year.
To say that my grandmother was a large part of my life would be like saying that Mount Everest is a nice little hill. She was there for me throughout my life; from the moment I was born until the moment she died. I have so many memories of her. When I was a child, my grandparents were with us nearly constantly. Through thick and thin, she was with me; with us – her family. She cared for me when I was ill because my mother was a new teacher and because my Grandmother never would have wanted it any other way. She would take me to after-school events or pick me up from church activities or go with me anywhere I needed to go. She was like my third parent.
My sister and I stayed nearly every weekend with my grandparents when we were little, because they wanted it so and we loved being there. I remember watching Saturday Morning Cartoons while the sounds and smells of my Grandmother’s cooking would fill the house. For our birthdays, my Grandmother would take us, separately, to the toy store and say, “Pick out whatever you want”. She never said no to anything we asked for on our special shopping trip. We went camping with my grandparents all the time in the summer; we would take golf cart rides around the campground, make Jiffy Pop and wish to never return to our regular lives from camping.
When my Grandfather died rather suddenly, it was my Grandmother that consoled me. I came in from school and found the whole house crying quietly, in a very somber mood. I have always been the most emotional of my family and when my mother told me of my Grandfather’s passing, I wailed and ran to my room. My grandmother quietly climbed the stairs and sat on my bed with me while I let out anguished cries for my Grandfather. She stroked my back and told me it would be ok. This woman, this little rock, she had just lost her husband of 45 years and she was consoling her 9-year-old granddaughter.
Our relationship really evolved as I matured and I looked forward to seeing her but I don’t believe I ever matched her enthusiasm. When I looked at my Grandmother, I saw absolute love looking back at me. She looked at me like I had dropped out of heaven into her lap. She lived just down the block from my parents and would literally come to our house within five minutes of my arrival as an adult coming in for a weekend visit. She was always brimming over with excitement to see me and hear the latest from my life.
When I was 25 years old, and she was 83, we discovered that she was in the middle stages of Alzheimers Disease. I had no idea what would take place after that diagnosis. I had never been exposed to this devastating disease; and I had no clue what to expect. Selfishly, I was engrossed in my own life at the time; something that I regret now more than anything. I didn’t visit her as much as I should have; I didn’t do as much as she would have done if the roles had been reversed. I spent time with her, I cherished our conversations and our relationship, but not with the passion that she did; I was too busy with me to think about her as much. I regret that my children didn’t meet her, that my husband never really knew her; she was too ill to speak when he met her. We lost so much time with her; she lived six years after her diagnosis but she was gone long before that. Only in the years since her death have I come to appreciate how much she meant to me and what an influence she was on my life.
And now, so many years later, I remember all the fun we had at the holidays. My grandmother loved singing Christmas hymns; I love singing them just as much but she knew each one by heart and would hum them or sing them as she worked around the house. She could play the piano only by ear and would sing Christmas carols at our house every year, plunking away at the keys and my sister and I would join in. She always cooked Christmas dinner; either at her house or later at ours; no matter what time we started the cooking, she was there to help with all of it, from beginning until the last fork was put back away. And then there was church; where she was a constant image sitting in that pew, six or seven from the back, right in the aisle so she could see clearly. She would be there, saving seats for us, smelling like Wind Song, Oil of Olay and other wonderful Grandma smells. She would sit with her arm around me or holding my hand and I felt completely loved.
And as I looked at my daughter and my son, two weeks ago, sitting in that same pew; I know that I look at them the way my Grandmother looked at me and I thank her for that in my prayers. I hope that she knows, wherever she is now, that she has lived on in me and that I am cherishing each Christmas as she did; with my family around me.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
October Spooky Assignment
As the church bells were ringing in 4 o’clock in the afternoon, Tessa and Camille were just finishing up their girls afternoon of antique shopping. “Pull in there,” Tessa said quickly to Camille. Camille pulled her Jeep Cherokee into one of several slots open at the small store marked, “Aunt Ellie’s Antiques and Fineries”.
While her eyes adjusted to the claustrophobic darkness of the small, crowded shop, Tessa followed a ray of sunlight beaming in from the windows to a dusty and neglected ladies vanity. The mirror was aged and pitted, the table in need of a good dusting and possibly a coat of varnish, but otherwise in great shape. As she approached the small elderly woman reading a Reader’s Digest behind the counter, she called out, “Excuse me, ma’am?”. The woman looked up and replied, “Yes, dear. What can I do for you?”.
“This vanity over here, do you know when it was made? And how much are you asking for it?”, Tessa asked her. “That vanity, let me see.”, the woman came around to the area the vanity was stored and touched the item with thoughtfulness. “Why, this is one of the last items from my family actually. I started this business because of the number of antiques I had accumulated in my storage barn. This was my great-Aunt Rose’s vanity. Her husband bought it for her as a wedding gift or an anniversary I believe around 1912. She would have only been about 20 years old then, so that seems about right.” She paused to consider her long lost relative, or to gauge Tessa’s interest or to set a price in her head. Finally, after a moment, she said, “I think $100 should be a fair price; it does need some work”.
Tessa quickly calculated the price along with the dimensions of the space she was considering for this piece. She was thinking this would be an excellent vanity for her guest room and the shabby chic theme she had started in that area. “Camille, do we have room in your Jeep for one more large item?”, Tessa called out to her friend. Camille absently replied, “Sure, I think we can or I’ll strap you to the top; either way, we’re good.” With some team work, and $100 lighter, Tessa and Camille headed out with the vanity.
Later that night, after Camille had left, Tessa began to place her newly purchased antiques around the house. She placed a new old watering can near her arrangement of houseplants; a silver brush/comb set went on her guest bathroom counter, a wrought iron magazine holder in the master bathroom and the new old area rug in the foyer. The vanity sat in her garage until she could get some varnish. Satisfied with her day’s work, Tessa headed to bed around 11pm.
Distantly she heard the tinkle of a glass chandelier in the wind or maybe wind chimes. Then quickly following that she heard music. Faintly at first, then a bit louder, muffled yet distinctly music. Tessa’s eyes opened from her dream. She looked over at the clock which told her it was 3:06 am. Darkness shrouded her vision as she tried to figure out what woke her. Oddly, she heard the soft music again. Assuming that she was hearing a version of her ring-tone on her cell phone, Tessa forced herself out of her bed. It wasn’t until she arrived at the hallway between her bedroom and the living room that she realized the music was not coming from her cell phone. She stopped and listened and then the music was joined by a quick laugh or giggle. The hair rose on the back of her neck as she felt with certainty that she was not alone in the house. She pressed her back to the hallway wall and listened to the sound of her own breathing for several seconds trying to decide what to do. The soft, muffled music continued. Tessa tried to pinpoint the location of where the music and that one burst of laughter had come from. She strained to listen to the music, not able to place it. It was that moment that she realized the music was coming from her garage. Quickly, she ran to her kitchen and grabbed her Mag-Lite flashlight and her telephone.
Approaching her garage for a better listen, her eyes darting around her house, the music softened rather than getting louder. She was now listening as closely as she could but her own breathing was deafening compared to the faintness of the music. She began to wonder if she was hearing things or if she had somehow left something on in the garage. She remembered the vanity and thought maybe there was something inside it causing the noise. Convinced that she had overlooked something in the new item, she cautiously opened the garage door; peering inside the darkness for signs of either the mysterious musical source or, at the worst, someone’s presence.
Tessa’s heart was racing as she craned her neck around the garage for a better listen and look. The music abruptly stopped as she looked in the direction of the vanity. She walked nearer, now convinced that there had to be an item in the vanity; a music box perhaps. She sat down at the stool of the vanity and searched the contents of the drawers. Empty. She bent over and looked underneath the top of the vanity, nothing. Defeated and feeling a little silly, Tessa turned on the Mag-Lite and swept the flashlight beam around the garage, just for reassurance. She was, indeed, alone. Sighing, she got up to go back to bed.
Re-entering her house, she turned to look at the garage one last time; all was in order. She chuckled at herself as she shut the garage door and when she chuckled, a delightful giggle brushed past her ear and tinkling music began to sound from the garage again. Startled, she looked at the vanity only to see a beautiful young lady in the mirror smiling at herself as she sat in front of it. In the instant that she saw the glimpse of the woman, the garage door thumped shut on Tessa like the wind had shut it the rest of the way for her.
After a restless remainder of the night, Tessa nervously returned to Aunt Ellie’s the next morning, vanity in hand. “Ma’am, I have to return this to you.”, Tessa said. Armed with reasons of more logical basis, Tessa set the vanity back in it’s original location. With a knowing look, the woman, said, “Oh no, you met Aunt Rose didn’t you? I keep telling her to stay here but sometimes she likes to follow her things.” The little woman moved over to the vanity, running her hands over the top of it while she clucked at the item saying, “Tsk, tsk, Rose. I’ve told you people don’t like it when you just show up uninvited like that.” She looked up and smiled at Tessa in a way that said she’d had this conversation a few times before.
While her eyes adjusted to the claustrophobic darkness of the small, crowded shop, Tessa followed a ray of sunlight beaming in from the windows to a dusty and neglected ladies vanity. The mirror was aged and pitted, the table in need of a good dusting and possibly a coat of varnish, but otherwise in great shape. As she approached the small elderly woman reading a Reader’s Digest behind the counter, she called out, “Excuse me, ma’am?”. The woman looked up and replied, “Yes, dear. What can I do for you?”.
“This vanity over here, do you know when it was made? And how much are you asking for it?”, Tessa asked her. “That vanity, let me see.”, the woman came around to the area the vanity was stored and touched the item with thoughtfulness. “Why, this is one of the last items from my family actually. I started this business because of the number of antiques I had accumulated in my storage barn. This was my great-Aunt Rose’s vanity. Her husband bought it for her as a wedding gift or an anniversary I believe around 1912. She would have only been about 20 years old then, so that seems about right.” She paused to consider her long lost relative, or to gauge Tessa’s interest or to set a price in her head. Finally, after a moment, she said, “I think $100 should be a fair price; it does need some work”.
Tessa quickly calculated the price along with the dimensions of the space she was considering for this piece. She was thinking this would be an excellent vanity for her guest room and the shabby chic theme she had started in that area. “Camille, do we have room in your Jeep for one more large item?”, Tessa called out to her friend. Camille absently replied, “Sure, I think we can or I’ll strap you to the top; either way, we’re good.” With some team work, and $100 lighter, Tessa and Camille headed out with the vanity.
Later that night, after Camille had left, Tessa began to place her newly purchased antiques around the house. She placed a new old watering can near her arrangement of houseplants; a silver brush/comb set went on her guest bathroom counter, a wrought iron magazine holder in the master bathroom and the new old area rug in the foyer. The vanity sat in her garage until she could get some varnish. Satisfied with her day’s work, Tessa headed to bed around 11pm.
Distantly she heard the tinkle of a glass chandelier in the wind or maybe wind chimes. Then quickly following that she heard music. Faintly at first, then a bit louder, muffled yet distinctly music. Tessa’s eyes opened from her dream. She looked over at the clock which told her it was 3:06 am. Darkness shrouded her vision as she tried to figure out what woke her. Oddly, she heard the soft music again. Assuming that she was hearing a version of her ring-tone on her cell phone, Tessa forced herself out of her bed. It wasn’t until she arrived at the hallway between her bedroom and the living room that she realized the music was not coming from her cell phone. She stopped and listened and then the music was joined by a quick laugh or giggle. The hair rose on the back of her neck as she felt with certainty that she was not alone in the house. She pressed her back to the hallway wall and listened to the sound of her own breathing for several seconds trying to decide what to do. The soft, muffled music continued. Tessa tried to pinpoint the location of where the music and that one burst of laughter had come from. She strained to listen to the music, not able to place it. It was that moment that she realized the music was coming from her garage. Quickly, she ran to her kitchen and grabbed her Mag-Lite flashlight and her telephone.
Approaching her garage for a better listen, her eyes darting around her house, the music softened rather than getting louder. She was now listening as closely as she could but her own breathing was deafening compared to the faintness of the music. She began to wonder if she was hearing things or if she had somehow left something on in the garage. She remembered the vanity and thought maybe there was something inside it causing the noise. Convinced that she had overlooked something in the new item, she cautiously opened the garage door; peering inside the darkness for signs of either the mysterious musical source or, at the worst, someone’s presence.
Tessa’s heart was racing as she craned her neck around the garage for a better listen and look. The music abruptly stopped as she looked in the direction of the vanity. She walked nearer, now convinced that there had to be an item in the vanity; a music box perhaps. She sat down at the stool of the vanity and searched the contents of the drawers. Empty. She bent over and looked underneath the top of the vanity, nothing. Defeated and feeling a little silly, Tessa turned on the Mag-Lite and swept the flashlight beam around the garage, just for reassurance. She was, indeed, alone. Sighing, she got up to go back to bed.
Re-entering her house, she turned to look at the garage one last time; all was in order. She chuckled at herself as she shut the garage door and when she chuckled, a delightful giggle brushed past her ear and tinkling music began to sound from the garage again. Startled, she looked at the vanity only to see a beautiful young lady in the mirror smiling at herself as she sat in front of it. In the instant that she saw the glimpse of the woman, the garage door thumped shut on Tessa like the wind had shut it the rest of the way for her.
After a restless remainder of the night, Tessa nervously returned to Aunt Ellie’s the next morning, vanity in hand. “Ma’am, I have to return this to you.”, Tessa said. Armed with reasons of more logical basis, Tessa set the vanity back in it’s original location. With a knowing look, the woman, said, “Oh no, you met Aunt Rose didn’t you? I keep telling her to stay here but sometimes she likes to follow her things.” The little woman moved over to the vanity, running her hands over the top of it while she clucked at the item saying, “Tsk, tsk, Rose. I’ve told you people don’t like it when you just show up uninvited like that.” She looked up and smiled at Tessa in a way that said she’d had this conversation a few times before.
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