day nine: moment in my day

Today's post topic is: A Moment in My Day. Well I have many moments. Some are quite embarrassing and some are just plain boring. No one needs to hear about my laundry. 

But today my moment involves my 89 year old grandmother. Known from here on out as Grammy. Grammy was born in 1924. Let's just let that sink in. 1924. It was a different world then. She was born in Queens Village, New York. She has some seriously German relatives. I mean.... GERMAN. She's an only child. She's seen things. She's watched the world be turned upside down and right itself back up again and again. She raised three kids. She was a great wife to a great man who travelled all over the world. Sometimes for weeks on end. I picture her back then. In the 50's, early 60's. Just like those housewives you see depicted on advertisements or TV. Dressed to the nine's. Vacuuming in a dress. Making sure the kids were clean and quiet when their father came home off the train from Manhattan. How different our world today must seem to her? She is always blown away by that thing I always have. That thing that answers our questions and has fast food menus on it (my iPhone). She is constantly amazed that I can bring up any little tidbit of information that she needs clarity on. And oh she is clear. This lady I'll tell you. She'll sing a jingle from the 30's like it was nobody's business. She closes her eyes when she is trying to concentrate or remember something. Sometimes she says her ABC's in hopes that a name will come to her on the right letter. I once asked her (quite rudely but I was probably in middle school so excuse me) if she would ever "date" again. She informed me oh so matter-of-factly that her husband was dead. I said I know Grammy but you might find a friend. No Laurie, my husband is dead. Fact. She has lived alone since I was 7. So that's 23 years. This is one tough Grammy. I applaud her. 

A few years ago (3 to be exact) she had quite the fall. Broken hip. Broken shoulder. Surgery came next... surgery from which she only woke up briefly. Then she went into a coma. Time passed. Discussions happened. I remember fearing that she would never meet the baby girl I was carrying. The little girl she knew I would have back in October when she saved pink socks and wrote a note with the date. She's a savant that one. I remember fearing that she would never see my brother Rob get married. 

Then one day she started to wake up. Matt made her laugh out loud even in her unconsciousness. We breathed a bit easier. She had to work hard after that. Learn how to do the most basic things again. But here we are three years later. She's home. In her own home. She just has to use a walker. That's it. She's a tough German that one. She still scolds my mom. She's still her. Just a bit slower. A bit more fragile. But she's here. And she met that baby girl I was carrying. And she met my son. And she loves them both. I love watching them together. I'll carry that with me forever. Seeing Baby D smile at her like she's just the light of the world. She saw my brother get married those years ago and she will see my sister get married in June. I'm thankful. And that's my moment today. 

Tomorrow's post: One of my many 'bury my head in the sand' moments.