I knew she would ask.
We talked about how laughter rescues, how we miss Papa Joe’s warm laugh.
Surely he hears us, we agreed.
She was about to ask, I could tell.
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening because she’s alone in that nursing home.
And because she hurts all the time.
Because she still pretends someday she’ll host family and fix holiday meals again, and I pretend it with her.
She is too unwell to live without constant hospice care, but she fantasizes about the menial things I take for granted. To her, it is utter wealth.
The gratefulness for a home to clean is her gift to me.
That, and the reminder to laugh about everything, to find the humor in life.
We think the sound of our heartbeat is proof of life, but it isn’t. It’s laughter.
I was washing dishes with her voice cradled on my shoulder, our cheeks pressing through the phone.
She started naming carols, so I knew it was time.
“What’s your favorite?” she wanted to know.
O Holy Night—
“Will you sing it to me, Sally Anne?”
It used to play through her halls on Maple Street, wafting like the scent of Papa Joe’s sweet tobacco pipe, room to room.
“I love when you sing to me.”
So I dried my hands and held my phone like I was holding her face close to mine.
O holy night….
The words so precious found her ear, 700 miles away.
Long lay the world, in sin and error, pining, till He appeared, and the soul felt its worth…
She sniffed, and I heard it—felt it. My beautiful grandmother was crying.
We both were beginning to fill, knowing something unspoken, and the notes somehow climbed over the lump in my throat.
The last time I saw her she held my hand to her face like a doll and kissed me over and over.
O night, divine… O night, when Christ was born…
“I’m so thankful for you, Grandma Pattycake.”
“I love you, honey. Goodbye.”
I turned back to my dishes, my little home, back to living her dream of having a normal life, and promised her in my heart I’d try harder not to take these chores for granted.
~
Wisdom is found with the elderly, and understanding comes with long life.
~ Job 12:12
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This makes me remember my grand mom. I remember the advice she gave me, when I was 16. I didn’t listen. How my life would have been different if I listen. Or listen to what God was telling me through her. Yes I made my bed hard for many years. And I thank God every day He and my grand didn’t give up on me. I guess I was in my 30’s before I listen. Now at 65 I wish and pray My grand children would listen. As a older woman I give advice, knowing they will hear me one of these days. The love u show will come back to you later in life. Or even after your life is over. They will hear your voice. When God answers your prayer you prayed while here on earth. God is always working in His time table.
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So true, dear friend!
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OH my, Sally, I’m crying tears at this. My brother, hubby and I just took Mamma home tonight after 23 days in the hospital and we have had some tense moments. Her health is fragile, her mind is clear as a bell and we are so blest to still have her. We are finding our new normal in taking care of her at her home. Tonight she said when she sat in her chair, in her house, “If my arms were long enough I would just hug my little house.” I’m so thankful we could take her home and that’s where we will keep her until Father calls her home. I love you and I thank God for your precious gift to the Body of Christ. Merry Christmas Sally Sonshine!
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This is so very special. I’m so thankful your Mamma is right where she wants to be. It’s a healing thing to love your home and get to be there–no wonder she wants to hug it. I love that so much, and I sure do love you! You’re the gift, my friend. Merry Christmas to you, my beloved Sandra!
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You paint the most vivid, intimate visions with your words! What a gift you are to me! I could almost feel Grandma Pattycake’s tear-streaked face. I love you. ❤️
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I love you so much for the way you stop to love on me. I’m so thankful Mo shared you with me! I think of you so often and hug you with my prayers.