Grandma

Ode to EdelineSo my grandma died Sunday night. I knew it was coming - the timex just couldn't keep it going any longer. I had the choice to pack up everyone and head north to watch her die - or spend time with someone I have been wanting to talk to for a long time. I picked life. I had a bit of a moment of "you suck" but really I don't think I would have wanted to watch someone who's been just a shell for 16 years die. She wasn't "my grandma" for so long that even remembering her in the nursing home bugs me. This was someone who was in motion from the minute her feet hit the hushpuppies. Her life was her family and her garden and for the last 16 years she really had neither. She did not teach me how to knit or anything like that - in fact I don't specifically remember any words she spoke to me. But I remember her hands. Her hands pulling weeds. Her hands making food for us. Her hands scrubbing her floor until the pattern was worn off. It's her hands I remember. She gave from them. Words can only do so much - it's the hands that make it happen. Goodbye Grandma.