Do you ever have someone else's loss overwhelm you?
A couple years ago, someone close to me lost someone close to him. I'd only met the person once, briefly. I didn't know the person, and that person didn't know me. Yet, when he died, I could think of nothing else. I'd lie awake at night, and I thought about what transpired on the night he died. I thought about all the things I wanted to tell him. I thought about his child. This went on nightly for weeks.
Of course, I couldn't really talk about it to anyone but my husband. How self-absorbed can I be to make the death of someone that I don't know about myself? So, I kept my mouth shut.
I'm sure we've all been in situations like that. Perhaps a coworker loses a loved one in a tragic way, and it affects you. You can't really discuss it because you know it's your coworker who's hurting. It's your coworker who has to deal with the loss. Not you. But, then, why can't you stop thinking about it?
I'm an empathetic person. I've lost people I've loved, but I've always tossed and turned over the feelings of others. I remember screaming when I heard my aunt died. I screamed. This is the first time I've ever written that because I've never felt like I had the right to. You see, when she died, my cousins lost their mom. That's a bigger loss than me losing my aunt. They will never get to show their mom who they are today. They'll never get to show their mom their babies. My mom lost her sister. She's never been the same. My grandma lost her daughter. Telling her was the most difficult and heartbreaking thing I've ever done. I relive seeing her go limp in the chair over and over...
I guess I felt like I didn't have the right to hurt. When my grandma died, it was a big blow to me. She was very close to me, to us, throughout my entire life. Yet, when she died, I knew I wasn't the only one hurting. She had dozens of grandkids. We all felt her loss. She had dozens of great-grandchildren. And, of course, she had her actual children who lost their mother. As much as I hurt, almost all of my thoughts went to my mom.
When my great uncle died, I was hurt, but I was mostly hurt for my father. Knowing what my great uncle did for my father and my father's siblings is just... it's so overwhelming. Yes, I lost a great person in my life, but my dad lost his father figure.
A childhood friend of mine is dealing with a tragic loss right now. I don't know her well enough anymore to discuss it with her. In fact, the only reason I know about it is from Facebook. She lost a pregnancy that was very far along. I've been up all night, tossing and turning, wondering how she can deal with her loss. Thinking about how she had the nursery all painted. Remembering all the bleeding I'd had during my pregnancy with Jo.
Why am I making her loss about me? My aunt died, and I made it about her kids. My grandma died, and I made it about my mom. Yet, when people who I'm not close to experience loss, I get overwhelmed by it. I seem to make it about me. I put myself in their situation, and I think about it over and over. It really, really affects me. Yet, it's not OK for me to talk about with people close to the situation. You can't really walk up to someone and say, "Hey, remember me? Yeah, I'm really hurting over your loss." Yeah, that's not OK. I'm trying to imagine a scenario. If I lost someone dear to me, and a near stranger came up to me and told me how much they were hurting over it... wow. Yeah, that's not OK at all.
Last year, the anniversary of the death of my loved one's friend arrived. I wasn't even close enough to the situation to talk about it with my loved one. Yet, it consumed me. I had to tell my parents and remind them of the date so they could be the ones to be there if they were needed. How pathetic is that? I did not lose anyone I loved in that situation, but, in my mind, I'd made it personal.
Funny, isn't it? We're told to be in touch with our feelings. The minute someone dies, though, we seem to have social norms regarding who has the right to be hurt by the loss and who doesn't. Me, I know I don't have the right to be hurt about this loss. It is not about me. It's about her, and her family. So why have I been awake all night?
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Missing Bailey
I haven't talked (or wrote) much about the loss of my long-time canine companion, my beagle-mutt, Bailey. Honestly, I hadn't even wanted to think about her or her not being here. It's only been in the last month or so that I've started mentioning her and talking about her more with Andrew.
The truth is, I'm doing much better than I ever would have expected, although I haven't really started dealing with the loss, either. The good news is my thoughts of her are happy and fond; I don't linger on her last few weeks or her death. I talk about her now when Oliver begs for food or shreds toilet paper or wraps himself around my legs; these are Bailey traits. I've considered teaching him how to chase after toys I throw just to make the circle complete. Just kidding.
On the negative side of things, I don't like hearing about people and their dogs. How cruel is that? I know it's wrong, but it's how I feel. Of course, any one who is reading this should not actually refrain from talking about their dogs with me. I don't get mad or anything... I just don't like it. It makes me uncomfortable.
Well, anyway, the reason I bring Bailey up today is because I went digging through our toy closet to get the Halloween Play-Doh (We're giving out Play-Doh instead of candy until we run out of it this year. Then we have candy back up). Before I unearthed the Play-Doh, I found Bailey's Halloween costume (it's a pumpkin). That was too much for even this stoic. I started sobbing right there in front of the closet. Oliver came crawling over and, thinking I was laughing, started laughing along. I snuggled him for a little while, and then he crawled away as I finished up my cry.
Pictured: Bailey dressed in her pumpkin costume, Halloween 2007, and Oliver and Bailey at my parents' house, February 2010.
The truth is, I'm doing much better than I ever would have expected, although I haven't really started dealing with the loss, either. The good news is my thoughts of her are happy and fond; I don't linger on her last few weeks or her death. I talk about her now when Oliver begs for food or shreds toilet paper or wraps himself around my legs; these are Bailey traits. I've considered teaching him how to chase after toys I throw just to make the circle complete. Just kidding.
On the negative side of things, I don't like hearing about people and their dogs. How cruel is that? I know it's wrong, but it's how I feel. Of course, any one who is reading this should not actually refrain from talking about their dogs with me. I don't get mad or anything... I just don't like it. It makes me uncomfortable.
Well, anyway, the reason I bring Bailey up today is because I went digging through our toy closet to get the Halloween Play-Doh (We're giving out Play-Doh instead of candy until we run out of it this year. Then we have candy back up). Before I unearthed the Play-Doh, I found Bailey's Halloween costume (it's a pumpkin). That was too much for even this stoic. I started sobbing right there in front of the closet. Oliver came crawling over and, thinking I was laughing, started laughing along. I snuggled him for a little while, and then he crawled away as I finished up my cry.
Pictured: Bailey dressed in her pumpkin costume, Halloween 2007, and Oliver and Bailey at my parents' house, February 2010.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Goodbye to our dear friend, Bailey
I wasn't ready to discuss what happened to Bailey, but I'm feeling stronger now and am able to open up a bit. I love Bailey, and I miss her so much. She was a gift from my parents for my 14th birthday in 1996, and I was a very good pet mommy. I read books on how to train her, and I used nothing but love and patience to instruct her. She learned to sit her first day at home, and she was housebroken within two days. She loved to play fetch and to leap off of stairs. Mostly, she just wanted to please. She was very easy to train. Bailey was always a bit neurotic. She shook nonstop for the first week she was home, and she continued to tremble whenever she heard a loud noise or felt a storm coming. She wouldn't walk over manhole covers or other grates in the sidewalk. She liked to be invited up on the bed, even though she was always allowed up. Her favorite thing in the world was a belly rub. Also, she loved to sleep in the crook of my knees or balled up behind the small of my back. She guarded me in my sleep, too, barking at anyone who came near my room while I slept. She was my best friend.
This is the story of her final weeks.
Bailey had been staying with my parents for the last two months because it was difficult for me to try to care for her while caring for Oliver. I'd be holding Oliver while he was crying, and Bailey would cry for loving. When she had to go out, I'd leave Oliver in the house (often crying) to take her pee. At night, when I'd try to calm Oliver down enough to put him in his crib, Bailey would whine to be pet. It was a struggle for me, so I asked my mom and dad for help. They love her, too, so they said yes.
I still saw Bailey every Sunday when I went to visit my parents, and I saw her biweekly when I came over to work (I'm their cleaning lady). She was always excited to see me, but she was also happy living with my parents. I missed her terribly, but I felt a lot better knowing she wasn't being neglected.
About a month ago, she started coughing. It was a Saturday, and my parents took her to the vet. Bailey wouldn't cough for the vet (of course). My parents described the sound to him, and they insisted it couldn't be kennel cough (she's never around other dogs and is never boarded). He gave her a shot of a steroid. Bailey was like a puppy again! Her joints felt better, and she was prancing. She stopped coughing. Her hearing even came back a little bit! I came over the next day to visit with my parents, and I was greeted by a barking Bailey. That hadn't happened in about a year (since she'd gone completely deaf). It was so cute!
Unfortunately, the steroids also made her have to pee a lot. She peed in the house on Monday for one of the first times in her life (there was one other time in her life when she peed in the house, and that was when she'd had a bladder infection). I came over to clean on Tuesday and Wednesday, so I was able to let her out enough to keep her from messing in the house.
That was about the time I decided that Oliver was doing better. He was crying much less frequently, and he was willing to be put down for longer periods of time. I took Bailey home, and we did pretty well. It wasn't long, though, until she started her breathing problems again. I gave her the oral steroids (mixed with an antihistamine) the vet had provided for us in case the cough came back. After a dose of the steroids, I noticed she seemed dizzy. The following day, she started falling over (literally). She would be standing still, and then she'd fall to the side. I called the vet and asked him if it could be a side effect of the steroid/antihistamine. He told me it wasn't likely, but it was possible. He told me to discontinue the pill and to call him back the next day to report her progress. She continued to decline. As she walked down the hallway, she'd veer into one wall and then the opposite wall. She tipped over when she was standing still, and she face-planted when she walked. I hoped it was just a side effect, and so I decided to wait until the morning to see if she was better. That was Tuesday, March 9.
That night, I woke up to Bailey trembling and yelping. I drew her near me and pet her for a long while. At about 3am, I decided she couldn't wait until the morning, and it wasn't fair for me to let her be in pain. I woke Andrew up and asked her if he could take her to a pet hospital. He drove her to one near 285 & Santa Fe. There, they listened to her lungs (they sounded clear), and they did a blood panel and chest X-ray. Her lungs were perfectly clear, and her blood panel was perfect. She'd had surgeries in the past, and I've always been told her blood levels were perfect and that she's a very, very healthy dog.
Because she seemed otherwise healthy, they decided Bailey needed to see the neurologist. However, the neurologist kept regular hours, and Bailey wouldn't be able to see him until later that day. They kept Bailey, and Andrew came home. His boss let him have the day to spend with me, and I sat on edge all day.
It wasn't until 3pm that I heard from the neurologist. He explained that Bailey had a tendency to fall to the right more than the left, and she was slower to respond to stimuli from the right than she was the left. Based on that information and other tests, he said it's likely she either had a stroke or a brain tumor. Because of her history of breast cancer, he thought it was most likely a brain tumor. He told me the problem was in the occipital region of her brain, but he couldn't tell me exactly what it was or how bad it was or what could be done unless he could take an image of it. An MRI with sedation would cost $1800, and a spinal tap would cost an extra $500. We couldn't afford those tests. I told him I wouldn't do drastic treatment for cancer because of Bailey's age. He told me that they would then just treat a tumor with steroids to shrink it for as long as possible to increase her quality of life. He said that treatment would also be used for a stroke. I decided to take her home and start the steroid treatment. Bailey came home that night (Wednesday, March 10).
Bailey showed no signs of improvement at all the next day. She continued to fall down (about 3 times a minute), and she wasn't able to sit down or lay down herself. Also, when she tried to lower her head to eat or drink, it would cause her to fall over, so she had difficulty eating and drinking. I laid her in her bed so she could rest, and I put food and treats near her head so she could eat. We did OK. I told my mom that I understood I was keeping her alive for me and not for her. She wasn't in pain, and she was doing OK. And I wasn't ready to say goodbye. That night, when Andrew took her to the bathroom, she couldn't stand for a long while. Then she finally stood, peed, and took off running. Andrew jogged with her, directing her and keeping her off the streets, for about half an hour. He said she seemed to have a good time, and he took her back home.
The next morning, she threw up. It was the most vile, stinkiest vomit of all time, and she wasn't able to lift her head out of it. It covered her paws, her muzzle, and under her chin. It stunk. I didn't think it was safe to put her in the tub, so Andrew rinsed her over the sink. He told me later that he thought there was blood in her vomit.
She stopped eating that day. We bought expensive wet dog food, but she wasn't enticed. I offered her treats and mixed her food with rice, but she'd have nothing to do with it. She wouldn't even eat peanut butter. I sat on the floor all morning, offering her spoonfuls of various foods, crying, trying to get her to eat. Oliver cried, too. It was then I realized that Bailey wasn't OK, and it was no longer good for me to keep her with me. She still kept falling. The steroids made her have to pee all the time (every hour), and I wasn't able to get her outside frequently enough. She peed by the door. I held her and cried. I called Andrew, and I told him I knew it was time. I also told him I couldn't bear to make any more decisions in the matter and asked him to please handle everything. He's a wonderful person, and he did. My parents came to my house to say goodbye to Bailey and take her to the vet. I pet her for hours and cried. I couldn't imagine life without her, without hearing her jingle bells as she came prancing by. I couldn't imagine not hearing her bark anymore, or not having her sleep on my feet. There'd be no more games of fetch, no more jogs along the trail. She'd no longer help me finish my meals, no longer beg for scraps of food. This special dog, the dog I grew up with, wouldn't be by my side anymore.
I tried to be as happy as I could. I was very happy she got to know and love Andrew. I was happy she got to meet Oliver and know I was going to be OK. I said my goodbyes to her. I told her I'd be OK. I told her I'd miss her, and I told her I wish she could see me grow old. I told her about the first time I saw her and how I picked her out. I told her about training her and moving across the country with her. I described all the important events of her life. I told her how much she meant to me, of how I spent half of my entire life with her by my side. I could barely remember life before her, and now I was going to have a life after her. It was very, very hard.
My parents took her to the vet. He gave her the injection, and he said she didn't fight it at all. He told them she was ready to go. I knew it, but it was important for me to hear from them. She didn't yelp, didn't cry out, didn't struggle. She just went to sleep.
I kept her jingle bell collar. Bailey wore that collar year round. When she was going deaf, she couldn't hear much, but she could hear her jingle bells. If I'd take her collar off, she'd sit near where I placed it, and she'd cry at it. And so it came that Bailey wore her Christmas-y jingle bell collar all the time.
I haven't been able to think much about my loss. As soon as I start to think about it, I think of something else. I keep myself busy, cleaning, always working. I just can't hold on to the thought that she's gone.
Really, though, I'm doing OK. I have a loving family who is here supporting me, and I've heard from so many of my friends and family. I really am OK. I've got Oliver here to take care of, and I know if Bailey could think it and say it, she'd tell me to take care of him and be happy.
It breaks my heart that she was otherwise healthy, though. If it hadn't been for that stupid tumor or stroke, she'd be here. Right now, she'd probably be sleeping in her fuzzy pink dog bed, or she'd be at my feet, whining to remind me that it's bed time. I tell myself that she didn't suffer. She was sick for only a short while, and it wasn't drawn out. She was a happy and very loved dog.
Life goes on. I'll deal with the pain at some point, and the pain will eventually get easier. I'm glad Bailey got to watch me grow up and see my new family. She's a dear friend to me, and I'll love her always.
Here are a few photos of us saying goodbye.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
A Kushy Weekend
For my Grandma Jo's memorial weekend, we had aunts, uncles, cousins, and so many others here in town. Aunt Gerry and Wayne flew in from Maine, Tina and Aunt Linda flew in from Boston, Uncle Mark came from Ohio, Uncle Matt came from Missouri, Julie came from Nebraska, Aunt Jackie came from California, Jana and Ian (who I met for the first time) came from Portland, and Aunt Carol, Uncle Mike, Missy, Mia, Glen, Jo and Jack all drove in from Iowa.
Tina stayed at my apartment. I was so stoked to have my first house guest! Andrew and I totally bleached the shower and toilets and vacuumed and had fun grocery shopping. I'm telling you, we're ready to be a regular bed & breakfast now. Tina was the best house guest, ever (and I'm not just saying that because she's my only house guest). She totally let me give her a tour and just generally showed an interest in everything, right down to the bagels. Hurray for her! Next time, I'll make her try Rock Band. Also next time, we won't be so exhausted from socializing so we can go for runs!
Having Julie in town was a hoot, too. I spent a lot of my time with her and Tina, just generally laughing it up and throwing our opinions out about everyone and every thing. Good times.
Uncle Mark and I talked a lot about the Disney World Half Marathon we're running in January. Turns out, in addition to us and my mom, his daughters Dina and Amber are planning on running in it. This'll be too much fun!
Andrew enjoyed meeting people and demonstrating his magic skills. At some point, he even had Jana and Ian practicing the disappearing coin trick. Too cute.
The most difficult part of the weekend was, of course, the memorial itself. We went up to Andrew's parents' land near Fairplay and sang and talked of our memories. I started to get upset about scattering Grandma's ashes. Not that I thought it was a bad idea; I knew it's what she'd wanted. It just is hard to say goodbye, I guess. I felt angry about not having her with us, and I hated thinking about everything she doesn't get to see. I know I'll move past those feelings and be able to enjoy her memories, but it's just so hard sometimes, and I feel so mad that I don't get to have her around anymore. I wish I could say more, but I'm so emotionally drained! It was a toughie, for sure.
And now... now things have quieted down. Some family is leaving already tomorrow morning. This means I'll sleep in, wake up slowly, and then reach out and connect with those that are still hanging out in town. I'm wiped, and I think it's time to cuddle up with a book and then head to sleep.
Goodnight!
Tina stayed at my apartment. I was so stoked to have my first house guest! Andrew and I totally bleached the shower and toilets and vacuumed and had fun grocery shopping. I'm telling you, we're ready to be a regular bed & breakfast now. Tina was the best house guest, ever (and I'm not just saying that because she's my only house guest). She totally let me give her a tour and just generally showed an interest in everything, right down to the bagels. Hurray for her! Next time, I'll make her try Rock Band. Also next time, we won't be so exhausted from socializing so we can go for runs!
Having Julie in town was a hoot, too. I spent a lot of my time with her and Tina, just generally laughing it up and throwing our opinions out about everyone and every thing. Good times.
Uncle Mark and I talked a lot about the Disney World Half Marathon we're running in January. Turns out, in addition to us and my mom, his daughters Dina and Amber are planning on running in it. This'll be too much fun!
Andrew enjoyed meeting people and demonstrating his magic skills. At some point, he even had Jana and Ian practicing the disappearing coin trick. Too cute.
The most difficult part of the weekend was, of course, the memorial itself. We went up to Andrew's parents' land near Fairplay and sang and talked of our memories. I started to get upset about scattering Grandma's ashes. Not that I thought it was a bad idea; I knew it's what she'd wanted. It just is hard to say goodbye, I guess. I felt angry about not having her with us, and I hated thinking about everything she doesn't get to see. I know I'll move past those feelings and be able to enjoy her memories, but it's just so hard sometimes, and I feel so mad that I don't get to have her around anymore. I wish I could say more, but I'm so emotionally drained! It was a toughie, for sure.
And now... now things have quieted down. Some family is leaving already tomorrow morning. This means I'll sleep in, wake up slowly, and then reach out and connect with those that are still hanging out in town. I'm wiped, and I think it's time to cuddle up with a book and then head to sleep.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Grandma Jo
I think about Grandma Jo a lot. It's been almost four months, and I think it's really starting to sink in that she's not around me anymore. It hurts... a lot.
I've gone back to her condo a few times with my mom. I love it there, and I hate it at the same time. It feels so wrong to make coffee without her being there. It feels weird to take one of her mugs off her wall and know she's not around to have any with us. I hate it.
Anyway, I thought I'd share a memory blog I wrote a few weeks after she died. It felt nice to right down all my thoughts and memories of her so everyone else could know what a great woman she was. So... here it is:
I can remember the first time I was old enough to "meet" my grandma. I must have been three or four, and we were driving to Omaha to visit with my Aunt Bette and her family and my Grandma Jo. We pulled up to my Aunt Bette's house, and my twin cousins, Tara and Amanda, were standing in front of the garage door, jumping up and down, yelling, "Grammie's here, Grammie's here!"
I thought these two girls seemed like a lot of fun, and I couldn't wait to play. I also couldn't wait to meet this "Grammie" character. I met my grandma that day. Strangely enough, my strongest memory is of her little condo (apartment?). She had Fruity Pebbles for us. We never got cereal like Fruity Pebbles. It was the greatest thing ever.
My Grandma Jo moved to Cicero (near Chicago) with us to help take care of her mom, my Oma. I lived in the house with my parents, brother and sister, and my Grandma and Oma lived in the basement "apartment" down below. I have many, many memories of living with Grandma. I'd hang out downstairs with my mom, listening as they talked with each other, sipped on coffee, and ate blueberry Newtons and grasshopper cookies. I remember Grandma bringing home groceries. I remember asking her lots of questions, like what was her favorite color (green) and why (it reminds her of spring). I thought green was an icky color; it reminded me of my brother's dinosaur toys. I told Grandma that, and she talked about the blooms on the trees.
One day in Cicero, we had a tornado warning. I don't remember much of it, except that Gramms gave me a Klondike bar and told me that the sky was green. It didn't look very green to me, but I started to get scared. She explained to me that tornados sound like freight trains, but I didn't know what a freight train was. I didn't ask.
Grandma Jo went with us on most of our family vacations. Our first, to Disney World, I remember fairly well (I was four). She took me on Space Mountain after telling me it was her favorite ride there. Now, I wonder, when had she been to Disney World before? She was also excited about Epcot, which wasn't built yet. I remember a few years later, she went back to Disney World to see it. She told me she went to China there, and I was so confused. I love how my grandma was never, ever afraid to do things by herself.
Right after I turned six, we left Cicero and moved to Chicago Ridge. Oma was very sick and sometimes got violent, so she went to a nursing home. Grandma bought a condo in Oak Lawn, one town over from us. Some of my most memorable Grandma Jo memories took place in her condo.
Grandma was there for all of our birthdays and all of the holidays. On New Year's, my mom and my grandma would buy poppers and funky hats and sparkling juice. We also ate a lot of easy cheese (from the can) on crackers. Of course, Grandma always had her "Grandma Jo crackers," which I later learned were Cheese-Its. I remember watching Michael Jackson performing on one New Year's on the TV. I didn't believe Grandma (or my brother) that it wasn't a girl dancing. We'd jump on the trampoline, and Grandma would let us be as loud as we wanted. Sometimes, her brother, my Uncle Henry, would be there. Sometimes, my Aunt Bridget (her aunt? Not her blood relative...), who also lived in those condos, would be there, too. It was a party every year. I spent almost every single New Year's ever with my grandma. I think I only spent two without her; one, in 2000, when my friends had a party, and another, last year, when Grandma was sick in the hospice. In later years, when we had Bailey and Homer, she would shoot the poppers in their direction. Grandma!
The other holiday that will always and forever remind me of my grandma is Easter. Grandma would put candy and money in plastic Easter eggs and hide them in the courtyard between all of the condo buildings. My brother, sister, and I would have so, so much fun running around, trying to get the most eggs. I can still see my grandma standing there, with her hands on her hips, watching us and pointing. I miss her so much. She'd get me excited about so many things, even the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade and the Easter parade on TV. I remember her teaching me the song, "I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet..." Grandma dyed Easter eggs every year, by herself. She also decorated a tree every year, even though she lived by herself. It didn't matter that there wasn't someone there to see it all the time. She did it anyway. Grandma went on vacations by herself, too. Once, she went to the Bahamas and brought me back maracas. Another time, she went to Germany (with my aunt), and brought me back Gummi Baren and German chocolate, which was quite dark. I loved my maraca, and I was very upset when the handle broke off right before our move to Colorado.
I remember learning how to open a can of pop at Grandma's. She also taught me things about Germany. She'd discuss family traditions, like passing the boot along for all to drink from. I loved her impressions of her kids, "I fell in the crick (creek) again!" or "Mommy, get me organized!" She'd also sit and listen to me talk, and she'd usually answer with "Uh huh" or "That's neat." Haha.
Grandma Jo was my mom's mom, and they talked so much together. I think of our house in Cicero or my Grandma's condo in Oak Lawn, and I picture the two of them sitting together over coffee, talking. However, my dad always called her "Ma," and they got along famously. My favorite story he told me was of his honeymoon in Vegas with my mom. My grandma was there (she came for the ceremony at Circus, Circus), but she hung around throughout the wedding night in the hotel room, chit-chatting with my mom as my dad was trying to call it a night. Good stuff. My Grandma could be so wonderfully oblivious.
I'll always remember my grandma as a very active woman, too. Grandma was on my bowling team. My brother and my dad were on a team in a league, and so my mom, my sister, my grandma and I formed a team. We played every Sunday at Arena Lanes. Gramms also would take me and my siblings to Magic Waters, a water park. She'd even ride on the slides with us! I didn't realize when I was little how extraordinary that was, but I knew she was a fun lady. In later years, after we moved to Colorado, Grandma took tap dancing classes. I think that is so special, so neat, because she always talked about tap dancing. I remember her teaching me "shuffle, ball, change," in the kitchen of our home in Chicago Ridge. I would practice, practice, practice, even though I really didn't understand what I was doing, until my mom would get mad at me for leaving scuff marks all over the floor.
Grandma became my roommate for family trips when Aunt Jackie wasn't around. This was simply because I didn't mind her snoring. She shared my cabin with me in Yellowstone, and she shared the hotel room with me in many of our trips to Omaha, including the difficult time to attend my Aunt Bette's funeral. When I was younger, I didn't always appreciate staying with Grandma because I felt like I was missing out on time with my cousins. When I got a bit older, I loved it because Grandma was like me; she liked to do her own thing. That's certainly the trait I inherited from Gramms. I don't mind having people around, but in the end, I like being alone the best. I like doing my own thing and not always being around others and talking with others. Grandma and I would talk a bit, and then we'd read, or do puzzles, or whatever on our own. Once, Grandma took me on a trip to Omaha, just the two of us. I don't remember much of it, actually (all of our trips to Omaha kind of meld together), except for the car ride. Grandma always had lemon drops, and when we stopped at the gas station, I'd have to go see if they had more. She'd buy me Tootsie Rolls sometimes, too. I remember stopping at the Cracker Barrell with her. We had fun browsing the store, and she bought me a little puzzle to play with in the car.
Grandma once told me that she took a secretary test. She came in second in the entire country, and she thought her phone would be ringing off the hook with job opportunities. That didn't happen. In fact, it took a while for even one person to call. She realized it had to do with her age, and told me that would no longer be allowed in our times today. I think Grandma finally got a job doing secretarial work for Turtle Wax. I remember driving down Ridgeland Avenue with Grandma, and she pointed to the Turtle Wax building and said, "That's where I work!" For the longest time, I thought my grandma shined cars.
When I was about 12, Gramms told me that she always wanted to ride a donkey down the Grand Canyon. I didn't really know what the Grand Canyon even was. She explained to me that it's this big, beautiful crater in the earth, and it's so deep, you have to ride on a doneky to get to the bottom. I remember asking her, "Down the rocks?!" She said, "yes." I pictured riding on a donkey as it walked straight down the edge of a cliff. I didn't realize there were paths. This fascinated me. "Gramms, don't they fall?" And she said no, they're very sure footed. I ran to my mom and told her about this, and explained that Grandma really wanted to go. I pushed and pushed until my mom and dad planned a very incredible trip to the Grand Canyon. Gramms did everything with us that trip; she went white water rafting with us, and she rode on a donkey down the canyon with us. Hilarious!
Grandma Jo would stay with us on the rare occasion that my parents went somewhere together. I remember lots of "Murder, She Wrote" and "Matlock." I still like those shows (I'm probably the only twenty-something who does!).
To be honest, I have so many wonderful memories and fragmented memories of my Grandma, from the time I was very little, through only a few weeks ago. I really, really loved my Grandma. I feel so fortunate, so thankful, that I got to have her as my grandma. Gramms, who loved IHOP but got mad at the lady who was ignoring her, so she left her only a nickel for a tip. Gramms, who bought her Saturn to drive all around the country by herself to visit each of her nine kids. Gramms, who loved taco salads from Taco Bell but couldn't eat them after the doctor said her sodium and cholesterol levels were too high. Gramms, who supported me when I got my tattoo, and said she'd get one, too, if she was just a few years younger. Gramms, who always said, "Oh, hell..." or "I'll be damned." Gramms, who has always hated shopping, but one Halloween went out and bought me a glow-in-the-dark witch coffee mug. Gramms, who always wore her crossword puzzle T-Shirt. Gramms, who always called Bailey "pin head." Gramms, who would come over to our house when no one was home, would let the dogs out and make a pot of coffee, and leave after we got home. Gramms, who exclaimed at Yellowstone, that she's no longer turning her head to see anymore of those "damn mule deer." Gramms, who decided to take a cruise to Alaska all by herself. Gramms, who I once asked why she doesn't get married to have someone to be with, told me, "I'd much rather live alone." Gramms, who took us to see "Camp Nowhere" and "Don't Tell Mom the Baby-sitter's Dead."
I miss her so, so much. It hurts a lot because my Grandma has always been here. She's just always been here. Gramma has been there for all my Christmases, birthdays, New Years, Easters. I just don't see how things will be without her there to be in them. I feel like an important piece of the family is missing. I can't comprehend what life is going to be like without her.
*sigh*
I've gone back to her condo a few times with my mom. I love it there, and I hate it at the same time. It feels so wrong to make coffee without her being there. It feels weird to take one of her mugs off her wall and know she's not around to have any with us. I hate it.
Anyway, I thought I'd share a memory blog I wrote a few weeks after she died. It felt nice to right down all my thoughts and memories of her so everyone else could know what a great woman she was. So... here it is:
I can remember the first time I was old enough to "meet" my grandma. I must have been three or four, and we were driving to Omaha to visit with my Aunt Bette and her family and my Grandma Jo. We pulled up to my Aunt Bette's house, and my twin cousins, Tara and Amanda, were standing in front of the garage door, jumping up and down, yelling, "Grammie's here, Grammie's here!"
I thought these two girls seemed like a lot of fun, and I couldn't wait to play. I also couldn't wait to meet this "Grammie" character. I met my grandma that day. Strangely enough, my strongest memory is of her little condo (apartment?). She had Fruity Pebbles for us. We never got cereal like Fruity Pebbles. It was the greatest thing ever.
My Grandma Jo moved to Cicero (near Chicago) with us to help take care of her mom, my Oma. I lived in the house with my parents, brother and sister, and my Grandma and Oma lived in the basement "apartment" down below. I have many, many memories of living with Grandma. I'd hang out downstairs with my mom, listening as they talked with each other, sipped on coffee, and ate blueberry Newtons and grasshopper cookies. I remember Grandma bringing home groceries. I remember asking her lots of questions, like what was her favorite color (green) and why (it reminds her of spring). I thought green was an icky color; it reminded me of my brother's dinosaur toys. I told Grandma that, and she talked about the blooms on the trees.
One day in Cicero, we had a tornado warning. I don't remember much of it, except that Gramms gave me a Klondike bar and told me that the sky was green. It didn't look very green to me, but I started to get scared. She explained to me that tornados sound like freight trains, but I didn't know what a freight train was. I didn't ask.
Grandma Jo went with us on most of our family vacations. Our first, to Disney World, I remember fairly well (I was four). She took me on Space Mountain after telling me it was her favorite ride there. Now, I wonder, when had she been to Disney World before? She was also excited about Epcot, which wasn't built yet. I remember a few years later, she went back to Disney World to see it. She told me she went to China there, and I was so confused. I love how my grandma was never, ever afraid to do things by herself.
Right after I turned six, we left Cicero and moved to Chicago Ridge. Oma was very sick and sometimes got violent, so she went to a nursing home. Grandma bought a condo in Oak Lawn, one town over from us. Some of my most memorable Grandma Jo memories took place in her condo.
Grandma was there for all of our birthdays and all of the holidays. On New Year's, my mom and my grandma would buy poppers and funky hats and sparkling juice. We also ate a lot of easy cheese (from the can) on crackers. Of course, Grandma always had her "Grandma Jo crackers," which I later learned were Cheese-Its. I remember watching Michael Jackson performing on one New Year's on the TV. I didn't believe Grandma (or my brother) that it wasn't a girl dancing. We'd jump on the trampoline, and Grandma would let us be as loud as we wanted. Sometimes, her brother, my Uncle Henry, would be there. Sometimes, my Aunt Bridget (her aunt? Not her blood relative...), who also lived in those condos, would be there, too. It was a party every year. I spent almost every single New Year's ever with my grandma. I think I only spent two without her; one, in 2000, when my friends had a party, and another, last year, when Grandma was sick in the hospice. In later years, when we had Bailey and Homer, she would shoot the poppers in their direction. Grandma!
The other holiday that will always and forever remind me of my grandma is Easter. Grandma would put candy and money in plastic Easter eggs and hide them in the courtyard between all of the condo buildings. My brother, sister, and I would have so, so much fun running around, trying to get the most eggs. I can still see my grandma standing there, with her hands on her hips, watching us and pointing. I miss her so much. She'd get me excited about so many things, even the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade and the Easter parade on TV. I remember her teaching me the song, "I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet..." Grandma dyed Easter eggs every year, by herself. She also decorated a tree every year, even though she lived by herself. It didn't matter that there wasn't someone there to see it all the time. She did it anyway. Grandma went on vacations by herself, too. Once, she went to the Bahamas and brought me back maracas. Another time, she went to Germany (with my aunt), and brought me back Gummi Baren and German chocolate, which was quite dark. I loved my maraca, and I was very upset when the handle broke off right before our move to Colorado.
I remember learning how to open a can of pop at Grandma's. She also taught me things about Germany. She'd discuss family traditions, like passing the boot along for all to drink from. I loved her impressions of her kids, "I fell in the crick (creek) again!" or "Mommy, get me organized!" She'd also sit and listen to me talk, and she'd usually answer with "Uh huh" or "That's neat." Haha.
Grandma Jo was my mom's mom, and they talked so much together. I think of our house in Cicero or my Grandma's condo in Oak Lawn, and I picture the two of them sitting together over coffee, talking. However, my dad always called her "Ma," and they got along famously. My favorite story he told me was of his honeymoon in Vegas with my mom. My grandma was there (she came for the ceremony at Circus, Circus), but she hung around throughout the wedding night in the hotel room, chit-chatting with my mom as my dad was trying to call it a night. Good stuff. My Grandma could be so wonderfully oblivious.
I'll always remember my grandma as a very active woman, too. Grandma was on my bowling team. My brother and my dad were on a team in a league, and so my mom, my sister, my grandma and I formed a team. We played every Sunday at Arena Lanes. Gramms also would take me and my siblings to Magic Waters, a water park. She'd even ride on the slides with us! I didn't realize when I was little how extraordinary that was, but I knew she was a fun lady. In later years, after we moved to Colorado, Grandma took tap dancing classes. I think that is so special, so neat, because she always talked about tap dancing. I remember her teaching me "shuffle, ball, change," in the kitchen of our home in Chicago Ridge. I would practice, practice, practice, even though I really didn't understand what I was doing, until my mom would get mad at me for leaving scuff marks all over the floor.
Grandma became my roommate for family trips when Aunt Jackie wasn't around. This was simply because I didn't mind her snoring. She shared my cabin with me in Yellowstone, and she shared the hotel room with me in many of our trips to Omaha, including the difficult time to attend my Aunt Bette's funeral. When I was younger, I didn't always appreciate staying with Grandma because I felt like I was missing out on time with my cousins. When I got a bit older, I loved it because Grandma was like me; she liked to do her own thing. That's certainly the trait I inherited from Gramms. I don't mind having people around, but in the end, I like being alone the best. I like doing my own thing and not always being around others and talking with others. Grandma and I would talk a bit, and then we'd read, or do puzzles, or whatever on our own. Once, Grandma took me on a trip to Omaha, just the two of us. I don't remember much of it, actually (all of our trips to Omaha kind of meld together), except for the car ride. Grandma always had lemon drops, and when we stopped at the gas station, I'd have to go see if they had more. She'd buy me Tootsie Rolls sometimes, too. I remember stopping at the Cracker Barrell with her. We had fun browsing the store, and she bought me a little puzzle to play with in the car.
Grandma once told me that she took a secretary test. She came in second in the entire country, and she thought her phone would be ringing off the hook with job opportunities. That didn't happen. In fact, it took a while for even one person to call. She realized it had to do with her age, and told me that would no longer be allowed in our times today. I think Grandma finally got a job doing secretarial work for Turtle Wax. I remember driving down Ridgeland Avenue with Grandma, and she pointed to the Turtle Wax building and said, "That's where I work!" For the longest time, I thought my grandma shined cars.
When I was about 12, Gramms told me that she always wanted to ride a donkey down the Grand Canyon. I didn't really know what the Grand Canyon even was. She explained to me that it's this big, beautiful crater in the earth, and it's so deep, you have to ride on a doneky to get to the bottom. I remember asking her, "Down the rocks?!" She said, "yes." I pictured riding on a donkey as it walked straight down the edge of a cliff. I didn't realize there were paths. This fascinated me. "Gramms, don't they fall?" And she said no, they're very sure footed. I ran to my mom and told her about this, and explained that Grandma really wanted to go. I pushed and pushed until my mom and dad planned a very incredible trip to the Grand Canyon. Gramms did everything with us that trip; she went white water rafting with us, and she rode on a donkey down the canyon with us. Hilarious!
Grandma Jo would stay with us on the rare occasion that my parents went somewhere together. I remember lots of "Murder, She Wrote" and "Matlock." I still like those shows (I'm probably the only twenty-something who does!).
To be honest, I have so many wonderful memories and fragmented memories of my Grandma, from the time I was very little, through only a few weeks ago. I really, really loved my Grandma. I feel so fortunate, so thankful, that I got to have her as my grandma. Gramms, who loved IHOP but got mad at the lady who was ignoring her, so she left her only a nickel for a tip. Gramms, who bought her Saturn to drive all around the country by herself to visit each of her nine kids. Gramms, who loved taco salads from Taco Bell but couldn't eat them after the doctor said her sodium and cholesterol levels were too high. Gramms, who supported me when I got my tattoo, and said she'd get one, too, if she was just a few years younger. Gramms, who always said, "Oh, hell..." or "I'll be damned." Gramms, who has always hated shopping, but one Halloween went out and bought me a glow-in-the-dark witch coffee mug. Gramms, who always wore her crossword puzzle T-Shirt. Gramms, who always called Bailey "pin head." Gramms, who would come over to our house when no one was home, would let the dogs out and make a pot of coffee, and leave after we got home. Gramms, who exclaimed at Yellowstone, that she's no longer turning her head to see anymore of those "damn mule deer." Gramms, who decided to take a cruise to Alaska all by herself. Gramms, who I once asked why she doesn't get married to have someone to be with, told me, "I'd much rather live alone." Gramms, who took us to see "Camp Nowhere" and "Don't Tell Mom the Baby-sitter's Dead."
I miss her so, so much. It hurts a lot because my Grandma has always been here. She's just always been here. Gramma has been there for all my Christmases, birthdays, New Years, Easters. I just don't see how things will be without her there to be in them. I feel like an important piece of the family is missing. I can't comprehend what life is going to be like without her.
*sigh*
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