While visiting Grandma Great, Kate found a picture of my mom in her early twenty's: long, straight hippy hair, full cheeks and lips, dark brown eyes. She insisted it was Mommy in that picture (what a compliment!). It took a lot of convincing for her to believe it was Gram.
***
The other day, as I zipped down the hall, I glanced in a mirror as I passed. The image jolted me to a stop. The mirror was angled in such a way that I could see my reflection and, at the same time, see the reflection of my wedding photo hanging on the wall behind me. Eyes darting back and forth, I noted new forehead wrinkles and longer hair, same crooked teeth and smile. Me then. Me now.
***
I pulled an album off the shelf labeled "1982-1988." Dad didn't take so many pictures back then. With kids on either side, I laid the book on my lap and we slowly flipped pages, looking. My kids wondered at the different clothes and funny hair. Reactions included, "I see Maryn's face!" or "That looks just like Kate!" "Is that really Grammy? She looks very different!" And, as I closed the back cover, "Mom, those pictures were from a long time ago, huh?"
***
Later, as we were loading up in the car, Kate jumped in the van. I buckled in Baby. And, before I could get in my own seat, Kate put her face close to her backseat window and called to me through the glass. I put my face up to the outside of the window to hear what she had to say. Her smile greeted mine as I strained to see beyond the tinted glass. If I moved my eyes just right, I could see in; see her. If I gazed a different way, I saw my own reflection. Two images, in overlay. A glimpse, a shadow, of then and now.
***
It has been fortuitous but heart-breaking that my trip home was this month. 86-year-old Grandma fell soon after we arrived, and over the past two weeks her physical condition has improved, but her mental capacities have wavered. She isn't the same woman I've adored and admired and have tried, for a lifetime, to emulate. She is old and confused; unaware; weepy; void of expression. I haven't seen her laugh lately. When I look at her eyes, they often look through me or away from mine. I'm afraid we are losing her. But, I'm more afraid that my warm and sunny memories of her will be overrun by these new cold, gray images. Images of a woman I don't know; eyes I don't recognized; a voice devoid of Grandma.
***
After the kids grew tired of old photos and stories of "back then," I pulled down one more album: "1976-1981." I fingered pages until I found what I was looking for. Fall 1977. Young and skinny twins hold up chubby baby girls, posing in front of a Washington, DC memorial. Me and Jodi. "Twin" cousins, first born babes. We were on a trip to meet Grandma and Grandpa: missionaries in DC and lonely for family. I gazed at a snapshot of Grandma and me. Her eyes were bright, her smile contagious. She was young and active, fun and energetic. I'm sure I loved her instantly. This is the image I want to keep. This smile. These eyes. This Grandma.
Maybe if I look closely at her now, I can overlay this long-ago image and see the woman that she really is.
11 comments:
Always so well said. And from what you report of grandma, I'm glad that I went back to see her on Thursday. I must have caught her at the perfect time. She was warm and funny. She remembered all our names and longed to kiss us. She seemed like her usual self except stuck in a chair.
I had to give my kids the prep talk. Telling her that her "sickness" might make her say silly things or sound mean, but that wasn't really her. I'm grateful that each of us had so many good years to see exactly the kind, warm, loving woman she is. How hard for us to see that even she is subject to old age.
Thank you for sharing your sweet memories.
It sounds like you are having a bitter sweet trip. I have had those same moments of worry when both of my grandmas were getting older and sicker. Now that they are gone, I'll still always remember them best when they were younger and beautiful, and, in my eyes, amazingly perfect.
Adri, what a wonderful post. I love the imagery, you write so beautifully!
I know that I am more emotional than usual because of the stress of yesterday, but that absolutely made me cry. It was so beautifully written and I am so grateful you shared. Thanks Ade!
i'm crying too much to type anything profound. thank you for always posting these things. you always say it the right way. i love that grandma, too. glad we have pictures and memories of her then.
Such sweet words and thoughts. I enjoyed reading.
Ade, both because of sentimental reasons....and plain old literary reasons....Best post yet.
I love the snipets.
I love the way you connected each.
You are amazing.
You are a beautiful writer. A gift I wish I had. You said so many of the things I have felt lately. Thank you!
Adri, isn't it heart-wrenching to see our grandparents begin their journey into the next world? I could always tell when my grandparents were getting closer to returning home, and even though you know they won't be slowed down by their aging bodies anymore, it doesn't make it any easier. It's wonderful to have happy memories and keep those close to your heart. Pictures are always a great way to remember!
beautiful writing Adri..
Beautiful, Adri. I have the chills. Sorry to hear about your grandma. I hardly know her, but I love her and glad to have a small memory of her always trying to line me up. So glad you shared the memories and documented them.
Sure miss seeing you guys.
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