My Grandma and Memorial Weekend

This time of night (long past Midnight) I'm fast asleep, though it is often aided with a Melatonin tab (to keep me asleep once I drift off).

Tomorrow morning (that is, later today) we're going to a wedding on the Perry side of the family, everyone is expected to be there. For the last 20 years since Scott and I have been a couple, we've driven to see my family in Indiana over Memorial weekend. Heck, we even got married in my grandparent's home town of Connersville on May 27 in 1989. This weekend has always been a Big Deal in my life.

Before that, I went with my family, and recall one year that I drove with my sister when we both lived in Connecticut. I was 25 and she was 19. We almost got a speeding ticket we were in such a hurry to get back home, but we lucked out when the nice officer gave us a reprimand and a warning instead. That was a lifetime ago.

It feels strange to not already be in Indiana. Stranger still when I think of how it keeps evolving, so many dear relatives have passed on over the years. Nothing stays the same.

This past Monday my sister called at 10 p.m., I had just turned out the light. I missed her call but called back and left a message that we'd talk in the morning. I went back to bed and was almost asleep a half-hour later when the phone made me bolt upright in bed. I missed it again but this time I got her on the phone. Now fully awake, I heard my sister tell me that our Grandma, who turned 90 just a few days before, fell and broke her hip in the hospital where she was taken last week for tests related to Alzheimers.

As we spoke, I recalled that three years ago this month my Grandma fell at home in her basement Beauty Shop and broke her hip (I still don't know which hip she broke this time). She went to the hospital then and never returned home. This was not just due to the hip fracture, but because she was also diagnosed with Alzheimers disease. As she recovered, she moved to a nursing home where she has since outlived the national statistics of a two-year stay.

Scott's parents and brother will follow us home from the wedding, so we've been 'cleaning for company' the last few days (they haven't been to our house in four years). When I put away jewelry in my bedroom, I was reminded again of my Grandma. One of her silver necklaces usually hangs from my dresser drawer knob, she got it when she went on a trip to Egypt years ago. Now it belongs to me though it feels odd to have her jewelry when she is still alive.

People usually divide another person's possessions after they die. When my Grandma's house was sold two years ago (you can't own a house if you want Medicare to pay for your stay in the nursing home), her belongings were divided, given away, and sold in a yard sale. I was aghast at the things I found in the yard sale that my family did not want. Old purses, decorative plates, spoons, lamps, candlestick holders and so much more. My sister and I kept finding interesting objects and felt guilty if we wanted to take them or if we left them for a stranger to buy for a fraction of its sentimental value. My Grandma's life was on display.

I kept my Grandma's black and chrome hydraulic chair used in her Beauty Shop. This was the chair customers sat in when their hair was washed and cut or permed and tinted a lovely shade of lavender. I also coveted the salmon-colored, sparkly hair dryer chair with the silver turn-on knob and the Jetson's style egg-shaped dryer hood. I loved that chair. As a kid I sat in it, pulled down the hood and my long hair went straight up. I debated and debated. Of course no one else wanted it, imagine having that 'thing' sitting in your family room? In the end, I did not take it and I have regretted it ever since.

This evening the live-in guy that we care for (our foster care provider job) reminded me of this weekend's car races. When he mentioned the Indy 500, it was my turn to remind him that I have family that attends every year. I told him last year, too, but he didn't remember. This year, when Jim Nabors sings Back Home Again (in Indiana), my heart will be there more than it usually is.