I'm trying to work and all I can think about is my husband in his maternal grandmother's hospital room, while I'm at home with a sick son. She is surrounded by her family, who is waiting and waiting and waiting. They anointed this 91-year-old woman seven hours ago and gave her last rites.
But I'm not thinking about that now. I'm remembering Grandma and what a character she is. The day before our wedding, I received a call from my future mother-in-law, asking if it was OK if Grandma wore a purple jump suit and white boots to the wedding. Of course! I think her daughter was mortified, but I knew Grandma always looked great. She wore purple as an old woman long before the Red Hat Society and without having to read Jenny Joseph's poem. She lived a colorful life, on her own terms, mortifying her daughter for over 70 years. I love that woman. Peace, Grandma.
1 comment:
I just deleted a comment spam. Why do I feel that my genuine grief and my honoring of an old lady on her death bed have been violated by some computer program?
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