Sunday March 16, 2014

It's been a week of frustrations for me, with one big reminder to not sweat the small stuff.

The frustrations have ranged from lost car keys (eventually found but not before I managed to set of the alarm, which then caused the battery to disconnect, which then caused the check engine light to come on) to a job that still hasn't begun.  Yes, I wrote a couple weeks back about being excited to start a new endeavor.  Well, new projects as Mayo often get pushed back when more pressing things arise.  So I continue to wait.  The woman who hired me assures me it will happen, and that this is a common refrain - "It's the Mayo way - delay!"

So, I not so patiently wait...

This week brought one big reminder about what really matters.  I went to visit my grandma on Friday.  She's been in the hospital in Faribault for a week, and things aren't improving.  The decision has been made that she will return to her apartment and begin hospice care on Monday.  My mom has flown in, and will be by her side.

I spent a lot of time with my grandma in my youth.  My grandma had 9 children, with my mom being the oldest and the only girl.  I am the first grandchild, born less than 5 years after my uncle Fran.

So, our family sort of all ran together.  My mom's brothers leading into me and then 14 more grandchildren to follow.  The next generation - the greats - started with Shannon and now numbers 13.

Grandma loved each of us with all she had.  She always looked for the good in her family, almost to a fault:  her boys could do no wrong in her eyes, and trust me, they weren't always angels!  Grandma felt the same about her grandkids - we were all lovely, even when we weren't.

I found myself reminiscing with my uncles and looking through old photos the other night.  I found one of my favorites - four generations.

Me, age 12, ready to be the junior attendant in my uncle Jeff's wedding, with my mom, my Grandma Jeanne, and her mom, my Great Grandma Irene.  Funny aside that tells you something about the women in my family - Irene didn't want to be called Great Grandma because that made her sound old.  So, we called her Grandma Great instead.  She liked the sound of that.

My mom is probably not going to be pleased with me sharing this photo.  For those of you too young to remember, the perm was all the rage in the early 80's...

My Grandma believes that she is going to heaven to be with Grandpa and her own parents.  And one of her greats.  Maybe she and Shannon can get to know each other better.

The idea of my mom sitting vigil with her mom on home hospice has certainly stirred some emotions for both of us.  She remembers all too well me doing that for my daughter.

It's different with someone who is 87, though.  It's appropriate.  It's her time.  The circle of life moving as it should.

I hope for a peaceful, easy passing for my grandma in the coming days.