My grandmaw. Christmas 2009 with my first cousin. Her, essentially her, always her. When I look at the picture I immediately think this is how she has always looked, although I know in reality she has aged in the last 37 years.
I notice on these days that she doesn't walk with the confidence that she did in the past. We went to one of her aunt's funeral. The rhythm of her steps had taken on a different beat, I could hear it. I was mesmerized by the simple action that said so much. So much that I don't want to see, accept, or hear. So much that she does not say.
My grandmother loves us in an amazing way, always has. She would rock us in her recliner when we were little, lay in bed with us until we went to sleep, make us breakfast. She does the same things with my children now. Many times I watch in awe until I am reminded (or remember) the days of being a little child and loving to be with my grandmother and grandfather. Always a constant support, stability and surety.
Now-today-this weekend, we are spending time in the hospital because she fell out of the bed and hurt herself. Her back gives her great pain. She can't stand up very well. I look on with unbelief. Is this the same woman who has run circles around me for most of my life? Who is my best friend? Who sees things in a way that most of us don't even think about. And I toss around the idea of life without her, thinking I am not ready. I talk to her everyday about my deepest fears. I see her almost every day. My children exist with her as a constant grandmother. She is my stronghold. No I cannot imagine life without her.
