Last week, I spent an entire day on the road traveling from San Antonio to Carrizo Springs and back to Fort Worth for the sole purpose of visiting my grandmother who has been in a nursing home there. Funny thing about driving solo is that you're left alone with your thoughts for hours on end to contemplate everything from grocery lists to the meaning of life. On this day, it was all about my grandmother. It had been at least a year since I had visited with her and I had heard that her memory was beginning to fade along with her body. When I did have the pleasure of sitting and visiting with her, she would always ask about the kids and then proceed to ask if I was still married to the same woman. I believe it was her way of picking at me about being married three times. She used to keep a wedding photo of my first wife on her walls long after we had divorced. Always an interesting conversation with whomever I happened to take to Little Grandma's for a visit. I remember spending my summers with my grandparents as a child and always wondering why the house was so small. Not necessarily the square footage but the doorways and ceilings. Built by my grandfather, he constructed the home to fit the height of his family, all of whom were no taller than 5'9". You can imagine the lumps a 6 footer would take in the middle of the night walking through a doorway meant for someone much smaller. But, I loved the home because it was the same year after year. Something that never seemed to age and a place I could always return to for a sense of comfort and nostalgia. Same pictures, same furniture, same aroma... it never changed over 40+ years.
I happened to be at a conference in San Antonio last week when I decided to skip the last day of sessions and make a trip to Carrizo Springs to visit Little Grandma. It wasn't necessarily a planned trip and I had even contemplated just going home and visiting her "next time"... which usually meant another few months for me. This time, I drove the two hours to visit her. The nursing home was not what I would've liked it to be. I walked into her room and found her sleeping... she had lost a lot of weight since my last visit. Her nurse walked in and updated me on her condition telling me that she no longer remembered or recognized any visitors and slept most of the time. I figured it would be best not to try and wake her. I sat at the end of her bed and watched her sleep... listened to her body fight for every breath... and mumble occassionally while she dreamed. After awhile, I leaned over, told her I loved her, kissed her forehead, said goodbye and left knowing the next trip back would be for her funeral... only I didn't think it would be 6 days later. Somehow, I want to believe that she knew I was there for that short period of time... at least I hope she did.
* My grandmother passed away two weeks after this posting...
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