2009-11-07
Thank You, Grandma
When I was 12 years old, my family went on our summer road trip to Massachusetts to visit my dad's side of the family. My grandma (on mom's side) tagged along. In a small town with too much parallel parking for the family van, we stopped to take pictures and do some shopping.
Of course, I was drawn into the Army-Navy Surplus Store where I saw an old Soviet Air Force Helmet. More specifically, the ShL-78 leather flight helmet along with the KM-32 oxygen mask, LA-5 throat microphone, and everything else you would need to plug yourself into a soviet fighter or bomber in the 1950s (for about $125 in prime condition). I asked my mom and she said 'no.' I asked my dad, and my mom said 'no' again. So, of course, like any kid who really wants something; I asked grandma... and my mom said 'No!' once more. The great thing about grandmas, though, is that they're your parents' mom and thus they don't take orders from their kids any better than my mom would take orders from me.
My grandma bought me the helmet and I swore that day that I'd thank her every time I ever saw or talked to her. I kept my word and have spent more than half of my life thanking my grandmother at the end of every visit, phone call, letter, and card.
On Thursday of last week, October 29, 2009, she passed away after suffering multiple system failure after a sudden catastrophic onset of sepsis the week before. To those of us who were close to her, the week she was in the hospital was probably the worst week in our lives; followed only by this week, our first week without her to talk to and with the realization that this year will have the notorious distinction of possessing our first Thanksgiving and Christmas without her around.
There's no way to describe how large of a blow this is to our family other than to describe her as she was as a grandmother. When people ask, I tell them that she was essentially a very witty and charmingly indelicate twist on that "Perfect Grandmother" role in fairy tales. We lovingly referred to her as the "Queen Mother" and "Matriarch of our family." She taught us words we dare not use to this day, always had cookies (I actually thought she made the almond windmill cookies), let me drive her car when I was 7, introduced us to the casinos, taught me how to "people watch", and absolutely spoiled us rotten. When she died, the first thought that raced across my mind was that "Heaven will now become even more desirable." Honest to God, I could not imagine a more perfect woman to call my "grandma" for the first 25 years of my life.
Truth be told, I only thanked her for the helmet for about four or five years. After that, I was using the helmet as an excuse to secretly thank her for being the best grandmother I could possibly ever want and better. I was fortunate enough to be able to talk to her one last time before the heavy doses of morphine kicked in, and I told her just that.
In addition to trying to realize some sense of normalcy again and spending time with family, I've been debating whether or not to share this story because of the immense personal nature of it and because I don't want sympathies for something that can't be undone or isn't somebody's fault (which has been an interesting topic of discussion over the past couple of weeks). Ultimately, I decided to share it because of the value of the lesson it offers.
We hear time and again how important it is to tell your family that you love them whenever you can because you never know which parting will be your last. That's definitely true but the odds are that your family knows that you love them, especially if you live by this rule. However, what message I believe we often subconsciously want to send with the phrase, "I love you," isn't always received: "Thank you." As a result, a lot of people are walking around feeling under-appreciated both at work and at home and the "I love you" received when they walk out the door for the day doesn't do enough to convey that appreciation we really feel for everything they've done for us.
You've all probably thanked a waitress for bringing a refill when you've gone out to dinner, but when was the last time you thanked your mom for raising you right? Who has had a more profound effect on your life? Although proper hydration is certainly important, our loved ones deserve and need to know how much they are truly appreciated.
Now that my grandmother is gone, it may sound strange, but somewhere in the grief of losing her is a sense of satisfaction in knowing that she knew both that I loved her AND how thankful I was to her for every moment of the 25 years we were fortunate enough to have together. It meant having to say, "I love you, grandma... And thank you," for 13 years - but now that she's gone, I know it was totally worth it.
Archived Comments
LD Jackson
I am glad you chose to share this story with your readers. It is wonderful to hear about the great relationship you had with your Grandma.
You are so right when you say we do not tell our loved ones enough how much they mean to us. Thanks for reminding me of that.
D.A.Zilius
Kevin,
You did a wonderful job.
JCGildein
Kevin,
Kevin you did a great job . A real tribute. I'm truly impressed with the words you chose and I could feel you meant every word. Thanks. You said it well.
