A Grandma Lost
** This story was written and published on 3/31/2014. Marie Wagner was born on 3/30/1918 and died on 3/23/2011 at the age of 92.
Grandma Gib (Marie Wagner) is the quilter to the right
Grandma Gib would have been 96 years old yesterday. With our age spread of precisely fifty years, I have always quickly remembered her age.
We lost Grandma three years ago. But her loved ones felt her loss long before her death. The horrible disease of Alzheimer's afflicted Grandma. We slowly watched her lose her memory. By her death, Grandma had lost recognition of the family she loved so dearly.
From a health standpoint, she was relatively comfortable in her final years. But it was Grandma's family who was left to feel the pain.
There was also a strange twist that happened as the illness overtook her mind. She became incredibly witty. Although Grandma had a sense of humor pre-Alzheimer's, she had become downright funny with Alzheimer’s. As her mind forgot, her quick tongue picked up the slack. Her comic tone made us laugh out loud while we mourned inside.
Grandma had us crying with laughter on many occasions with her funny comments and comedic timing. I sometimes asked myself if Grandma really had Alzheimer's or if miraculously she would tell us that she was playing us all along. From constant comments to my aunt on her hair, "you really need to find your brush back" to her breaking out in slow applause in response to a grandson's story about a hard day at work.
At a family wedding, I was one of the readers. I got my grandma's attention as I approached the pulpit with a necklace that clinked with my every step. Nestled between two of her children among the congregation, she lit up as she recognized me at the front of the church.
"It's Sandy!" she cheered in the quiet of the service.
Her recognition of me and her joy made my day. I held on to this feeling in the days ahead when she didn't recognize me. There is something surreal about a disease where the afflicted seem in perfect health and sound mind, other than having a five-minute memory span. This was the case with Grandma Gib.
The Alzheimer's also gave her a bit of truth serum as we knew she would now tell us exactly what she thought. She had gained a vocal opinion on just about everything relating to our appearances and was quick to share them. Grandma’s smile while sharing her unfiltered comments gave us many laughs but also led to some pause before asking questions.
On a visit I made to Grandma in her final months, she commented on the many colors in my hair. I recently had my hair colored and highlighted. Her comment came out of the blue as she strained herself to look closer at me.
"Do you like it?" I asked, wincing as I awaited her answer.
"Yes!" she enthusiastically answered.
As I breathed a sigh of relief, I decided to push the envelope with a second question.
"Grandma, I just had my birthday. Do you know how old I am?"
"No, I don't," she answered with a sweet smile.
"I'm forty-two," I revealed. "Fifty years younger than you."
"Yous…42? I can't believe that! You were such a blessing to us when you were born."
To this day, my heart still warms thinking of this moment in time. Grandma was sitting, smiling peacefully in her rocking chair with the sun shining on her vibrant hair of gray (no added highlights).
When I was young, a favorite memory was sitting with my grandma while she quilted. We would spend hours on this quiet activity. The sun shining through the screen door would light my grandma's face as she concentrated on her needlework. Most days we would just sit quietly as the warm sun filled the room. There was no discomfort in the silence that surrounded us.
It's funny the things in life that you miss. But I can still feel the sun's warmth and her smile in my memory. That will never be lost.
My Grandma Gib made my baby quilt and it is still treasured well in my 50s—one of the many quilts Grandma made for me over our years together.
