After spending some time with my grandmother, my cousin wrote a beautiful blog post.
“Her arms held a million wrinkles and 100 million memories as well.
As we (my mother and I) entered the room where she sat, she didn’t stop talking. Jabbering incoherently, her emotions were in obvious distress. Her mind overtaken by an enemy — dementia. Though verbal communication seemed impossible to reach her, she still understood the deeper language of the heart.
Love.
And as we sat and then later walked with her, we touched. Her hands, her shoulder, her face and each time we did…. she grasped hold of us –tightly — and pressed our hand to her face. And smiled. I felt peace slowly inch its way upon her as her spirit began to settle.
I longed to reach her. For her to understand me. To let her know how special she was, that she was loved. Yet, each effort I made left me feeling like my words simply confused and frustrated.
Better not to talk.
Suddenly, I had an idea! I crouched down to her level and looked her square in the eye. She met my gaze as I began to sing a song that in years past we’d often sung together.
She smiled as I sang and by the second verse she began to hum along.
My voice cracked. I could barely sing.
“Jesus loves me….this I know….”
Though there was much she had forgotten. This, she couldn’t forget.
We finished the song (somewhat) and got her ready for bed. Her 92 year old body was tired as we changed her and helped her lay down in her bed. I was reminded of my youngest daughter. They seemed very similar somehow. Their spunk, their heart, their love — it was the same.
We tucked our little grandma into her bed. Her body small. Frail. Weak. Loved.
Wrapping her blanket snugly around her face, I kissed her on the cheek. Her face broke into a huge smile as she reached out her arms for more. More, more, more. She soaked up love like a dry, thirsty sponge.
Then turning out the lights in the room, we walked out the door. Well…our bodies did. Our hearts stayed beside her.
Goodnight precious Grandma. Sweet dreams. I love you.
Thanks Ruth.”
Peace, dwight
