When I was young, I would spends week-long “vacations” at my grandparents house. They lived in a small house on a small farm. There was an orchard and a garden, a pond with fish, fields with cattle, and a pig pen. There was no air-conditioning. We were a ways from town and no one my age lived near. I loved it!
I’m not sure what it is–the temperature, birds singing, the smells, or the solitude–but this morning reminds me of those wonderful weeks.
My grandmother is now very sick and lives in a nursing home. She battles extreme pain and longs to be with the Lord. My grandfather drives up every morning and sits by her bed all day while she sleeps, moans, and tries to eat. He rarely returns to his empty home before dinner.
My grandma and I always had a special relationship. I would work with her in the garden, kitchen, or other “house duties” and then, when those were finished, she would sit in her rocking chair in the kitchen, read her bible, eat chocolate chips, and drink sweet tea. She had a sheet with a running tally of how many times she read the bible from front to back, she loves the Lord.
She was a tough cookie. Plagued with epilepsy and osteoporosis, she was hunched over but could still be caught climbing up on countertops to reach something on the top-most cabinet or practically falling into the deep freezer trying to get something off the bottom. We didn’t have deep conversations, she wasn’t like that. But I just “got” her and she seemed to “get” me. I would even go so far as to say we were close.
I miss her. She’s not the same and I feel so very sad that she spends everyday in such pain.