The Noisy One
I spent most of the past few days in Oklahoma. Thursday morning my parents called and said we needed to make the trip to visit my Grandma, today. This meant her health had gotten worse. A trip that was planned for next weekend probably shouldn't wait. If we wanted a chance to spend any time with her, this was it.

These last few days were spent evaluating her situation, and taking care of some details. Most of it had already been thought through between my dad and all of his siblings - the yucky stuff and words and phrases you don't ever want to talk about: DNR, feeding tube, clearing out her apartment and putting everything in storage, and all that scary stuff. We want to make sure she is as comfortable as possible, both healthwise and emotionally. She does not know we cleared out her apartment on Saturday, and that she will never go back there.

I wasn't sure what to expect when we walked into her room at the skilled nursing facility on Thursday. But, she recognized us as we walked in, and that was a big relief. I think both for us, and for her. I think it's hard on her when she is too confused to keep up with everyone who comes in and out of her room.

A lot of the time we were with her we would not consider good days for her. She's confused and worried, and not always with us in the moment. But, every once in awhile we got a glimpse of the Grandma we all know and love.

We watched a lot of Animal Planet this weekend. That's about her speed, especially when she sees a dog like her old chiuahua, Chiquita. Mostly we just spent time with her. Talking to her. Keeping her calm. Being there. I think I finally figured out where I get my strong desire for people to stay. Every time we would leave to go eat, or for the night, we would tell her that we would be back later. She would hold our hands and say, "Promise?" She seemed to do better with people around. But, that makes sense. She's used to a lot of family. Five kids, lots of grandkids, and even a few great-grandkids.

She still had a bit of the twinkle in her eye that I've always loved about her. I get my sense of humor, mischievous tendencies, and ornery disposition from that side of the family, starting with her. She was always picking on her kids and grandkids, teasing and joking, and loving each and every one of us as individuals. She had each of our personalities pegged young. She just loves her family.

And, I love so many things about her.
- Her Cream of Wheat was always lumpy. I loved it that way. Every time we went to visit, we requested that she make us Cream of Wheat. Only later did I learn it's not supposed to be lumpy. That means it was made in a hurry. I just thought it was fancy and fun. I still love it when mine turns out that way. It's not quite the same, though.

- I loved her house in Vidalia. I loved visiting there. It was safe and fun and familiar. My dad grew up there. Every room had stories. I loved when I was the only grandkid visiting. I got Grandma all to myself. One time when I visited, we went across the street to the neighbors and they gave me a cucumber from their garden. I ate the whole thing, without even cutting it up. It was a major accomplishment at such a young age. My grandma was very proud of me.

- I loved her church organ. For some reason, she had this big organ in the house that all the grandkids used to fight over playing. I would sit there even when everyone else got bored with it. I would never want the thing now. I don't think it's in the family anymore. But whose grandma has an organ? Mine did.

- I loved the AM radio that was always on the wall. It looks like an old phone. I'm glad to say, my dad rescued if from her apartment and brought it to me last Christmas. Now it is on my wall.

- I love the finger game she used to play with us. She would cross her fingers together and tell me there was a critter in her hands. I always knew there was not a real critter in there, but it was a game we would play. I would stick my finger in between her fingers, and she would "get" my finger with her thumb, hanging on to it while I squealed. She loved it.

- I loved Scrabble with Grandma. My dad, Grandma, and I are fierce Scrabble competitors. Both of them cheat, so you have to watch yourself when you play with them. It gets really ugly. We found the old family Scrabble game under her couch this weekend. I don't know where it ended up at the end of the day. But I owe my Scrabble prowess to her, I'm sure.

- I love that every time she had a house full of family for a holiday or special occasion, she was always the first one up. And for each person who got up in whatever order we wandered out into the kitchen for breakfast, no matter how early or late in the morning, she would make breakfast for each of us.

- I love that even this weekend, while she was sitting in a nursing home facility, unable to walk, being taken care of, and she hasn't cooked a meal in years, she kept telling us to eat. The woman never met a person she didn't try to feed.

- I love that she came to my college graduation. I love that my dad and I went to her 75th birthday party. He picked me up from college and we made a roadtrip out of it.

- I love that she went to Israel 15 or 20 years before I ever even thought about going to Israel a few years ago, and that the pictures she took then and the slides she brought us as a souvenir mean something to me now that I've been there.

- I love her jewelry. And by that I mean that I don't like any of it and would never wear any of it because it is huge and gawdy. But I love that most of it was real (ie: expensive), and that she wore as much of it as she could, all the time, everywhere she went. I put her rings on all of my fingers this weekend, and ran out of fingers long before I ran out of rings.

- I love that she had a gun, a very small pistol, that she kept in a firesafe in her apartment. It looks like a tiny water gun. The "case" for it was a shiny coin purse.

- I love that the first time I remember her leaving after visiting us as kids when we lived in Colorado, I cried as I watched her plane pull away from the gate. I think I cried most times we left Grandma after a visit.

- I love that she watched birds, and had bird books to identify the birds in her yard. I love that the first year I owned my house, I watched birds in my yard. I did not go so far as to get a book, and I quit when Friend A made fun of me acting like an old lady. But Grandma was definitely on to something with the bird watching.

- I love that she never liked cut-off jean shorts. They were not proper. I love that when you went to visit Grandma, you wore good clothes, you put on make-up, and you never walked around the house in just pjs that weren't "presentable". She was adamantly against ever leaving the house without being dressed properly or having all of your make-up on. Even at the nursing home place this weekend, she wanted to be covered up properly, dressed when she could be, and she wanted her "face" on.

- I love the "fancy" soaps that she always had in every bathroom in every house or apartment I ever knew her to live in. They were these purple balls and blue balls, and I kid you not, I think they were the same purple and blue balls that I first remember seeing in the Vidalia house as a kid that were still in her bathroom almost 30 years later at the apartment we just cleaned out. They never went away. I don't know where you buy these soaps. I've never seen them anywhere other than her bathrooms.

- I love that she used to be Catholic and tortured me by making me go to mass with her when I would visit. And I love that she converted to Baptist, and still tortured me by making me go to church with her when I would visit. I love that she loved Jesus, served her church, and raised all of us to know God. Maybe it wasn't torture after all.

- I love that she served everyone she could. She raised 5 kids after her husband died. She worked harder than anyone I know. Her 75th birthday party was held at the store she still owned and worked at. She claimed to still be an active Pink Lady volunteer this past weekend.

- I love that I found her bowling ball this weekend, from her days in a bowling league.

- I love that for almost every birthday she would send me $5.00. Often cash, through the mail. It was $5.00 when I was young and that was a lot of money to me. It was $5.00 even through college when $5.00 wouldn't get me in to a movie. My friends knew her as my "Five Dollar Grandma."

- I love that she never wanted a hug. She always wanted to "love your neck."

What I love most is that she still knows who I am. And not just by name or by face. She knows it is me. This visit, I had a few moments here and there alone with her. I will cherish them.

Every once in awhile she would look me right in the eye and say something that she used to say to me, or something familiar. Friday was the worst day we saw her. She was really dehydrated and very confused. But while I was sitting with her, just me and her, she looked right at me and said, "You're always so noisy. Always the noisy one." Twinkle in her eye.

She used to always call me the noisy one because I was always the quiet grandkid, keeping to myself, never saying much. The rest of the kids were pretty much attention hogs, loud, fighting over toys. I would mostly watch and not say much. I guess it was the same this weekend. Was hard to know what to say or what she would keep up with. But, she knew it was me being with her.

Being noisy. Same as usual.

I don't know if she understands why so many people have come to visit her lately. Or why she is where she is. Or if she understands that if she doesn't eat and drink and take care of herself, she will not be with us much longer. I don't know if she realizes we came to say goodbye.

But when I got up to leave her yesterday, saying goodbye for probably the last time, I leaned over her and she said, "Let me love your neck."

I loved hers. Always will.

C.T.