This was my grandma in the early forties.
By the time I came along my grandma had several strokes and she was house-bound in a chair. I never heard her voice. I am sure she held me when I was an infant, but even then she was an invalid. I only have my mother's stories about her. Most of them I will not repeat, but two of them I care to share. First is this one: Grandma was babysitting mom's sister's two girls, one an infant and the other 2 years old. Grandma and grandpa were living with mom and dad at the time. Grandpa was at work and mom left to walk to the corner store. When she returned grandma had her first of many strokes. Grandma was in her chair in a stupor, but held tightly in her arms were the two children in her charge. She could no longer speak and never walked again, but she had those two girls in safety.
Second one is this: grandma was on death's door many times and mom would call the local priest to come to the house to be with grandma when she died. Every time the priest would break out his vestments and kit to perform the last rites, grandma would pop up as best she could to let him know she was not yet ready to go just then.
Grandma died when I was 11 years old. She died with only grandpa by her side. Mom and dad and I were visiting her sister with the two girls whom grandma had held when she had her first stroke. She had seemed just fine or mom would never had left the house. Her death was sudden and grandpa didn't even have a chance to call the priest.
This post started with an idea to write about another grandma and the story was to begin with a short bit about my only grandma and then on to the grandma I live with and love, Joyce. I will have to delay that one until I put that story together.
Copyright Bill Weber 2018 and beyond.
Second one is this: grandma was on death's door many times and mom would call the local priest to come to the house to be with grandma when she died. Every time the priest would break out his vestments and kit to perform the last rites, grandma would pop up as best she could to let him know she was not yet ready to go just then.
Grandma died when I was 11 years old. She died with only grandpa by her side. Mom and dad and I were visiting her sister with the two girls whom grandma had held when she had her first stroke. She had seemed just fine or mom would never had left the house. Her death was sudden and grandpa didn't even have a chance to call the priest.
This post started with an idea to write about another grandma and the story was to begin with a short bit about my only grandma and then on to the grandma I live with and love, Joyce. I will have to delay that one until I put that story together.
Copyright Bill Weber 2018 and beyond.
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