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daisies and i love you’s

November 14, 2013

they (being webmd, my mom and the minister) claim that hearing is the last of the senses to “go.”  i’m not sure exactly where they go, but that’s a ponder-ance for another blog post.  but since grandma can’t hear me talking from 800 miles away and i can’t get to her bedside immediately, this blog is just going to have to do.  maybe she’ll just know i’m writing these words, maybe in that way that grandmas usually just know things.

last time i talked to grandma via dad, her translator, she sang me a song about daisy my dog.  i wasn’t entirely sure this made sense, but apparently she was singing a real song because dad seemed to know the words too.  this kind of makes me sniffle because grandma so badly wanted me to settle down and meet a nice man at church one sunday but instead i went out and found a daisy and she’s singing songs about my dog.  but daisy bought me some time and seemed to earn my way back into grandma’s good graces because daisy is pretty much the only thing grandma talks to me about.  except when she talks about what she had for lunch.  also, sniffling away, one of the only two times i’ve seen grandma cry was over daisies.

grandpa r apparently loved daisies.  when grandma would go to the grocery store he would tell her “not to forget the daisies.”  maybe this was a part of that song?  or maybe grandpa just liked fresh cut flowers.  either way, grandma came toting daisies to grandpa’s funeral.  i sniffed a little through the memorial service and even chortled at a few funny family stories.  but i full on lost it when grandma started crying over the daisies.  she wouldn’t let go of her little bouquet and when i asked if i could bring them to the burial for her, she started crying and repeated he told her not to forget the daisies.

the second time i saw grandma cry was last year when my mom told her she loved her.  we were leaving for the airport after our christmas visit.  grandma was in pretty rough shape last christmas after falling at home and surviving a tragic encounter with a sterling teapot.  don’t ask but let’s just say that uncle jim’s depiction of grandma’s apartment as a law & order crime scene wasn’t far from the truth.  she was patched up and back home after the holiday and we tried to grandma-proof her apartment as best we could but eventually we had to go our separate ways.  standing in her little entry way, surrounded by christmas beanie babies and her iconic mistletoe teddy bear, we said our goodbyes.  and then mom had to go and say “we love you.”  grandma teared up and mom teared up and we all just stood there awkwardly.

grandma was raised a yankee and i’m pretty sure yankees don’t cry.  that’s why it was so awkward when grandma started choking up.  she was bred to endure arctic freezes and her favorite horse topsy’s demise and the great christmas of 2012 teapot dome scandal.  but daisies and “i love you’s” she was just not equipped to deal with.

i’m not sure why i’m saying/typing telepathically all of this to you, grandma.  i guess i wanted to reassure you that daisy and i will keep on keepin’ on, maybe we’ll even go to church.  i’ll try and sing that snazzy daisy song, too.  and i’ll carry on your yankee ways as best i can.  i can’t promise i’ll ever master your pizza casserole or your flair for accessorizing but i will promise to host parties as often as i can.  and even though you might not hear me or read any of these words, with mistletoe as my witness, know that i love you.  i just hope that doesn’t make you cry.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Sarah Leztar permalink
    November 14, 2013 9:38 pm

    One time that I told Grandma that I loved her, she responded with “Happy Birthday.” It was not my birthday.

    • ratzrow permalink*
      November 15, 2013 1:58 am

      H-h-h-hap-happy birthday!!?

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