Saying Goodbye to Grandma

I've been absent from the blogosphere for so long that I may have lost all of my followers. If not, I'm finally able to spend some time catching up on every one's lives and put down some words about what has been going on in my world. Summer has been busy so far with both work and play. I'll recap the last month and a half in a separate post.

Me with grandma & grandpa - 2008

The past few weeks have been a time of mourning and saying goodbye to my grandma, or Grandma Chris as most of us grand kids have always called her. Grandma Chris is my dad's mother, Gloria Marie Christiansen. The family said goodbye to grandma on Tuesday at her funeral following her death a week ago.

Grandma's death wasn't unexpected. She became ill several weeks ago and was put on home hospice care. When I first found this out I felt a little panicked. I knew I'd have to face her death sooner rather than later, but when I was actually confronted with it I didn't feel at all prepared. My dad, aunts, grandpa and uncles were all taking turns being with her 24/7. None of us expected her to last more than a week. Emotions were high on my first visit  after she was put on hospice. I walked into the house not knowing what to expect. I was scared. What would I say? How would she look? How on earth was I supposed to say goodbye? I sat next to her bed, holding her hand while tears streamed down my face, barely able to talk. Seeing my grandpa so sad made it even harder. When I left I was thankful for the chance to see and talk to my sweet grandma, but I was also completely grief-stricken at the thought of her no longer being a part of my life. 

For the next several days and nights I waited, expecting a call at anytime telling me that she was gone. The call never came. I sent my dad frequent texts asking for updates. I probably drove him crazy with my constant need for information. I was going to be going out of town for a few days, so I visited again before leaving town. Things were much better on that visit. Grandma was frail, but she was talking. We visited about everyday things--talking about my grandpa's garden, the weather, what I was up to in my life, just regular stuff. Not a single tear was shed. It felt like so many other past visits to grandma and grandpa's. My dad, grandpa, aunts and uncles were just down the hall, gathered in the living room laughing and sharing stories, teasing each other like they always have. I stayed for over an hour just soaking it all in, enjoying every moment. I left town feeling very at peace. Things were just as they should be. Grandma was home, in her own bed with her husband and children there with her. She was being cared for in the most tender, loving, gracious, way possible. 

Heading into her third week of hospice care when I returned from my trip, amazingly, not much had changed. I was lucky enough to get one more visit with grandma, spending a couple of hours with her and grandpa so my dad and aunt could have a break. Did my dad  know how much I needed more time with her? What a gift that time was. Those are treasured hours for me, very precious memories. Grandma and I talked about so many things. She was happy and smiling, even kind of silly. Grandpa and I watched Gunsmoke in between checking on grandma. I smile just thinking of that night. I'll be forever thankful for that time with her. 

Grandma died the next night. I was able to say one last goodbye during her last hour. I said my goodbye with absolutely no regrets. She knew how much she meant to me--how deeply I loved her--and I know how much she loved me. I was lucky enough to have her in my life for 44 years. I am so grateful for the beautiful, dignified death she had. My sadness and grief is softened by knowing how well she was loved at the end. I'm in awe of the way my dad and his siblings took care of grandma non-stop for over three weeks. I witnessed absolute devotion as my grandpa took tender, loving care of his wife of 70 years. Her death proved to me you really do get back what you put out into the world. Grandma died as she deserved to, with all the love she had spent her life giving others being returned to her ten-fold. 

Gillian with her great-grandma 

Keicha Marie, Gloria Marie and Gillian Marie
Valentine's Day 2013

Baked With Love

Today I’ll celebrate Valentine’s Day with one of my favorite traditions, baking and decorating heart-shaped sugar cookies with my daughter.  Typically I don’t do much, if any, baking for Christmas, instead saving my baking and decorating extravaganza for Valentine’s Day.   We’ll use my favorite recipe, one that was given to me by my Grandma Christiansen and that I’ve used for at least twenty years. 

The first batch of cookies baked and decorated is always reserved for Grandma.  Gillian and I spend at least an hour decorating the cookies that we’ll deliver to her.  Grandpa’s cookies are easier, as he likes his plain, crispy and a little burnt.  I always overcook one batch just for him.  I don’t know if grandma still waits for my Valentine's Day cookie delivery like she used to.  I only know that after forgetting one year (1999 to be exact.  Gillian was only four months old and I was overwhelmed and distracted with the new demands of mothering) I’ll never forget again.  

Baking often reminds me of my grandma.  I have many fond memories of time spent by her side in her kitchen helping her bake cakes and cookies.   Even though I was very young, I vividly remember helping her make my dad’s favorite raisin filled cookies.  Although I couldn’t stand how they tasted, and was always disappointed that we couldn’t make something I liked, even then I understood that for her the act of baking something special for someone she loved was an act of love.  It’s a lesson that’s stuck with me, and is probably the reason I enjoy baking birthday cakes and treats for the ones I love. 

I’ve learned many valuable lessons about love and caring for family from my Grandma Christiansen (Grandma Chris to all of her grandkids), and every one of them was taught by her quiet example.  I’ve never walked into her house without feeling completely enveloped by love as soon as I enter.  She makes every one of her grandchildren feel so special that I’m positive every one of us thinks we’re her favorite! 

My Grandma Chris has been there for me through every stormy, traumatic, scary, happy, sad, and memorable moment of my life.  For me she’s always been a shelter from the storms of life.  No matter what I’m going through, when I’m with her I feel like everything is going to okay.  Because I’ve been on the receiving end of so many of her kindnesses, I’ve learned the value of a perfectly timed note sent in the mail for no reason, a hand-written thank you card, a small gift picked up just because it’s the perfect thing for someone, a beautifully wrapped present and how to make guests always feel welcome. 

Many years ago I gave my grandma a wooden plaque with a picture of a cat on it.  My dad has told me stories of hobos coming to the back door of their house when he was young and my grandma feeding them. Hobos used to leave signals--carvings on fence posts and trees, as messages to other hobos passing by about places to rest and eat.  A picture of a cat near a home indicated that a kind-hearted lady lived there.  I’m certain there was such a signal outside my grandma’s home, because she is the epitome of a kind-hearted lady. 

Making Valentine's cookies is one of my most cherished traditions.  There’s something about using my grandma’s special recipe, passed down from her to me, that I’m now using with my daughter,  that’s such a tangible representation of the connection between generations.  I treasure that connection.  It’s why when I was pregnant with my first and only child I didn’t find out whether I was having a boy or girl.  I already knew I’d be having a girl.  I had to, because I’d always planned on having a daughter that I would name after my grandma.  And so I did.  Gillian Marie was given the middle name of her great grandma, Gloria Marie Christiansen, and her great-grandmother before her, Marie Proctor. 

When I turned 40, I corrected an omission my dad made in naming me, and legally changed my name to include the middle name of Marie.  The gesture might seem small and unimportant to some, but it was very important to me.  It was a way to recognize and honor a woman I love and cherish with all my heart. 

Me with my grandparents - Summer 2009 

Gillian with her Great Grandpa Christiansen