Random Musings

Big Mom

I thought about my grandmother today.

She passed away in April of 2004, and I don't think about her as often now as I did in that first year.

She was my mother's mother, and she had lived a long, rich life. I had the priviledge of having her in mine for a lot longer than most people get to enjoy their grandmothers.

That wasn't my grandmother who lived down south. That one died before I was born. This grandmother was the one whose house to which we could walk. She was the grandmother that babysat us after school, the one who worked in the dry cleaners at the end of our street, the one who when we tapped on the window as we passed by the shop would smile and wave at us as she worked at pressing people's clothes.

She was the grandmother with the starlight mints in the candy jar which was where we headed as soon as we entered her house. She was there at our recitals and programs. She was at our graduations and right up front at our weddings.

It was my grandmother who was there at the hospital when I woke. At the break of day, she was there even before my mother could get there, to see me when my third son was born via Ceasarian section (also the third one).

It was my grandmother who taught me to sing, "Mama may have, Papa may have, but God bless the child who's got his own". We would sing backup together for Lady Day who sung lead on the stereo in the living room. My grandmother was proud of me for holding fast to those lyrics in my life, just as she strived to do throughout hers.

As far back as I can remember, my grandmother had always been a sharp dresser. And she was so funny; even after glaucoma robbed her of her eyesight, she was still concerned about her appearance. We laugh now thinking about how after helping her to get dressed to go out or for company, her constant question to us would be, "How do I look?" She couldn't see herself, but it was important to her that she look good to others.

In the end, although I knew I would miss her, I didn't regret my grandmother moving on; she was tired. At 91, her strong spirit and her alert mind were being held hostage and being stifled by her failing body. I think when her time came, she really wanted go, so she lie down on her bed, "Stretched out", as she put it for an afternoon nap, and slept on away from here, headed for a higher plane.

I'm sure that now she's somewhere telling stories and making other people laugh, having a good old time, and making everybody feel good, just as she did when she was here.


It's been nearly two years but I still miss her naughty chuckle. I miss her out-of-the-blue comments catching me off guard, and having my reactions tickle her to no end. I miss calling her up on the phone with the latest gossip. I miss having her phone me, just to "check on me". Every now and then I still catch myself reaching for the phone to call her up. But then it dawns on me that she is no longer at that number, and that another family now resides in that small, neat house on Pacific Avenue.

Today as I sat in staff meeting, I suddenly thought of my grandmother. I found myself teetering on the brink of that empty hole that hasn't quite filled in yet, the one her leaving me made in my heart.

I love you, Big Mom. Take care.