In my life, I've been blessed with family and friends who love me probably more than I will ever know. I would wish we all had people who serve as beacons, anchors and bouys in our lives, to guide and direct, to root us and give us pause, and to keep us afloat or serve as reminders of life's boundaries. Whether we're diving in, cannonballing it, doggie paddling just to keep above the surface or taking strong and determined strokes, towards the shore or deeper over our heads, the beacons, anchors and bouys we are born to or choose are very much part of who we become along the way and in the end.
***
This week I've been swimming for a shore that is not in sight as the light of my most beloved beacon, my Grandma Dolly, is dimmed and struggling to illuminate her once bright spirit.
At ninety one Grandma Dolly has the smoothest skin, a keen sense of humor, and insights that attest to the length and breadth of her life journey. She is my joy, my kindred spirit, and my closest relative. Grandma Dolly is my remaining grandparent, one of three I was priviliged to know growing up, one of two I remember most, one of one whom I best identify with. Together we are a pairing which needs no others to make it right. Together we have solved the world's problems and made fun of stupidity while enjoying tea and cookies, coffee and ice box cake, grilled tomatoe and cheese sandwiches, or sun tea over ice, with Good Housekeeping or a crochet project in our hands. We have shopped for groceries, her modest list of chicken breast, potatoes, crusty Italian sliced bread, unsalted butter for baking, and King Arthur flour, all written in her tiny print, in pencil, on a 2 x 4 piece of scrap paper. Together, Grandma Dolly and I have made Christmas sto
ckings by hand, discussed the proper way to sew a zipper into a pillow, and praised the simple comforts of a warm blanket and pair of socks on a cold day. These are some of the wonderful characteristics of my dear Grandma Dolly.***
The harsh reminder of her fraility came Tuesday evening at 5:30pm, when I received a call from my father, affectionately known as Grumpy. Grandma Dolly fell backward off the third bottom step of her attic staircase, fracturing her pelvis and several ribs which have led to internal bleeding and anemia. That first evening she experienced incredible pain, yet in the ER she spoke some of the memories I shared above, telling me how much she has enjoyed all of our visits over the years. She may never know what a precious moment that was for me, that even while suffering intense pain, she was thinking good thoughts of us and was moved to express them to me. Tonight she is resting more comfortably in her new home, a nursing care facility with staff that she says is attentive and expedient and good to and with her. These are good words for this granddaughter to hear. She is on complete bed rest while she heals and needs oxygen now and then as her breathing is off because of her cracked ribs.
Still, this upbrupt change in her health has hastened the end of an era. Life as she, and I, and we knew it has been shipwrecked at sea, ravaged by the twin storms of age and accident. The days of visiting her at home are over, these are serious injuries and the healing will be long in coming. We must take each day as it comes even more so now than ever, and yet I know even more now the truth of another wave coming in, a swell that will naturally overcome me, that will threaten to pull me under, and I will taste the saltiness of grief, and the bitterness of loss.
***
But for now, she floats, anchored to her bed, bouyed by those around her.
And I, I breathe, immerse, kick, surface....and repeat.
Because without her I am lost. Without her I still need to swim to shore. Whether she can lead me there with her light or whether I must find it in the dark with only the memory of the way in me, she wants me to keep moving.
***
Breathe, immerse, kick, surface.
Repeat.
***
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