Me, my grandma and a tree.

This is a picture of me, back in the early 70s, when I was almost a year old, with my grandmother, Beryl. My grandma died this past Thanksgiving somewhat unexpectedly. I was given some of her old photos, and I really like this one.

Why?

Well, first of all, it makes me wonder about whoever took the picture! As far as I know, no one in my family is legally blind, but looking at this picture makes me wonder. Or is the tree the star of the show here? Kinda funny, kinda great. And I do like trees...in fact Tim sometimes refers to me as a "tree huggger". His response to wasting paper products is "the tree is already dead".

Secondly, I look really happy in this picture, and I think that reflects how I really was around my grandparents. As a kid, I LOVED going to my grandparents' house for the weekend. They were FUN.

Finally, I always thought my grandmother was a beautiful woman. Not classically beautiful, but she was radiant. I think she really loved her life, that she had found her place in the world. I consider it an enormous compliment when anyone says I look like her.

The day my grandmother died, I had some friends over for Thanksgiving Dinner. It was very weird. Then there was the wake and the funeral, and that was that. I went back to the office the day after the funeral.

After my grandfather died, I felt horrible for about two weeks. I kept picturing how he looked those last few hours in the hospital - like a tortured animal. It was raining the day of his funeral and all I could think about was that he was getting wet. I remember trying to go back to my graduate work after his funeral, breaking down in my dissertation advisor's office, and then hiding out in my apartment for the next week or so.

This death was different. As turbulent as my relationship has been with my mom, I've been very worried about her. She lost her father in the mid 1990s, she lost her older sister a few years ago, and now she has lost her mom. My mom's husband is very ill and she takes care of him at home. She must know that soon, in many ways, she'll be alone. I also think that I took some comfort in believing that my grandmother would be united with my grandfather in some way. I can picture him trying to smother her with kisses and her blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl.

I see my family shrinking, and I know there's nothing I can do. I wish I could repair broken relationships, or get some time back, or whatever. I've tried at times, and have never been successful. We only get so many chances, only so much time.

Here's the thing though. My grandparents were disappointed in some of my choices (such as my first marriage to a much older man, and my reluctance to comb my hair, which particularly bothered my grandmother). But I know they loved me irregardless, in their own way. I didn't always spend as much time with them as I could have, especially my grandmother. I got divorced, moved around, etc. But I know that they knew I loved them too, in my own way. And maybe that's enough. I hope so.