Grandma K Again

Dear TEAMS,

Beside me in the office here are two boxes, brought back from my mother’s belongings.  One holds costume and simple jewelry, certainly not adding up to any big monetary value.  The other holds (and I am not exaggerating) about a thousand photos.  I have already sorted through the jewelry once, shipping off to your Aunt anything I thought she might be able to resell on Ebay to add to grandma’s meager account at the Home.  The rest of it is waiting for my more careful examination, either so I can relive a memory, or smile at the thought of why it appealed to your Grandma, or verify it is not some important piece to you because it was my grandma’s; your great-grandma’s.

The photos I have decided to sort and put in piles and make albums on my mother’s Facebook page.  (As an aside, one of the ways we were aware my mother was having issues about 2 years before she ended up at the Home was that I was talking to her about Facebook and encouraged her to join, and she couldn’t grasp the concept of it.  This was a woman who owned a personal computer in the 1980s, at least 10 years before Bill Gates achieved his dream of having a computer in every home in America. Your Uncle C eventually set her up with an account, but she kept calling it "Bluebook" and wouldn't get on it.  But back to the photos…)  Some of them are ones I recognize from the Churches of God, General Conference where Grandma worked when I was in high school.  Some are from her time pastoring a church in Oak Park, IL.  Others are of architecture (Frank Lloyd Wright was a favorite) or pretty wildlife.  And some are photos I have no idea what they symbolize, and I don’t recognize the faces, but it is obvious they are people and places that were important to my mother at one time.

The sadness of this all is that 485 miles from here, your grandma is sitting in a Nursing Home.  And even if I could drive there tomorrow and show her these few things of hers, she could not tell me any story related to the item.  Indeed, my mother doesn’t even remember she was moved to the Care facility grudgingly from the home she bought with my father and raised her children in, or that she ever owned jewelry.  She cannot tell time.  And she cannot dress herself or go anywhere unaided.

Over the past few months, I thought that it couldn’t get any worse than talking on the phone with her and asking a basic question of what she ate for lunch and having her answer with completely nonsensical gibberish, every non sequitur and lone syllable stabbing me through the heart at the loss of…well, her.  It turns out, I was wrong.  Worse than the answers that made no sense is, in fact, the silence I encountered on my last call with her, just on Tuesday.  [This posts 2 weeks later than my writing.]  

Your grandma can no longer answer my simple questions I would ask her to keep her talking, to have a connection with her, and to let her know she was loved.  On this recent call, I would ask a question, and there would be silence.  I have already learned to wait many seconds past the typical conversation for her answers, such that they were, but I waited even longer this time and no answer came.  Perhaps there would be a mumbled word every so often.  She did offer that her back hurt.  I just kept telling her I loved her, and I believe in my heart she heard in her spirit.  Five painful minutes I spent on the phone, asking her questions and listening to her silent responses, trying hard not to let the tears in my eyes choke up my throat so I could talk.  When I finally said goodbye, I wondered what she would do.  She didn’t hang up, because she didn't know she was supposed to; and an aide finally came in the room and confirmed with me that the call was over.

As I look at the boxes, I am reminded how important these items were to her at one time.  Your grandma never did anything without it being meaningful to her in some way, and I know every necklace I pull out and every photo snapped has a story to it of why it was important to her and how it represents her very long life of 78 years.  But what strikes me as I sit here and meditate on these boxes and on her now desolate mind is that ultimately, these items—this “stuff”--means nothing to her at all, and in fact has no value to us, either.  All that emotional energy that was wrapped up in the decision to purchase or click the shutter, all the money and care spent to “preserve history” has absolutely no worth to her whatsoever.  She does not even know these items exist, nor does she ever remember possessing them or spending time on them, nor does she realize she was ever any place other than where she is now.  And I’m not sure she even cares that she doesn’t know, in that she no longer is capable of making sense of her days.

I do not know when you will read this, and my final days, Father willing, are still a long way off.  I don’t believe my brain has the same fate as my mother’s and that you will have to lose me before you lose me, the way I am having to with my mommy.  But in the end, it’s pretty obvious to me right now that all this work we do every day, and the people we meet and the things we strive after and the money we spend and the stuff we collect, well…

There is nothing better for a man than to eat and drink and tell himself that his labor is good. This also I have seen that it is from the hand of God.  For who can eat and who can have enjoyment without Him?  For to a person who is good in His sight He has given wisdom and knowledge and joy, while to the sinner He has given the task of gathering and collecting so that he may give to one who is good in God’s sight. This too is vanity and striving after wind.  Ecc. 2:24-26

Love, 

Photo is of your Grandma K's charm bracelet and other charms found among her belongings.  What I remember about the charms L-R: Sweet 16 from her birthday 12/27/49, music staff from being in choir in HS/Findlay College, Ohio Cardinal charm, airplane from her trip to India with my father around 1974(?), a cross showing her lifelong church involvement but if unknown origin, a church (my dad's first pastorate in Leipsic, OH?), San Francisco from our family trip west around 1978, an Oregon State charm from the same trip, Happy Birthday from an unknown birthday, a house charm signifying a new home either for 708 Christina Court or 704 Charles Ave., an graduation owl with a tassel dated 1977 (which I think signified her graduation from seminary).  The single charms are of Hawaii, signifying a trip your Uncle C took her on in the early 1990s, Glacier National Park, where your Aunt K worked for a couple summers during college, a charm from Bluffton College, where your Aunt K graduated from, a New Mexico charm either from the previously mentioned trip out West or from when your Aunt K went on a Navajo Missions trip, a passport which opens like a locket and contains a photo of someone looking very 1960s, a train/caboose/trolley from I don't know where, and a menorah, I assume from her trip to Israel, also in the 1990s.