I have been thinking a lot about my grandma lately, who is now living in heaven. She was an amazing woman , whom I unfortunately didn't get to know as much as I would have liked. Just recently I have started to realize just what I missed out on.
My grandma was a knitter, and having just read "The Friday Night Knitting Club", and having a knitting lesson tomorrow has brought back some fond memories.
Anna Jean Percival, or as I knew her, Grandma Jean always had a bag, full of yarn and knitting needles. She was amazing with those simple tools too. She knit all of us grand kids stockings, all awesome, all huge and all slightly different; I guess she appreciate the eclectic nature of her grandchildren more than I realized. She knitted us sweaters and mittens, hats, and more sweaters. As a kindergartner, we had snow day, and I had a matching set of hat, gloves and sweater. Not because my mom was rich enough to buy it for me, but because my grandma loved me enough to make it for me. I really wish I still had them to roll around in my fingers as I wrote this.
She was certainly the Matriarch of our family. Both my parents were born and raised in New Bedford, Ma. That's where half of my family still lives. My fathers side of the family moved to California one by one. I have met my grandma Kennedy but a handful of times, but Grandma Jean, she was the one to come to my events and have a goody bag with my name on it for every holiday, even when as a teenager I never would have admitted that I wanted one...though I looked to forward to them every time I went to her home. My aunt, my grandmothers only daughter made goody bags for my girls this Easter and I almost cried because she did one of the things I wished my kids could remember, though my dear grandma passed just before Serena was born.
Grandma was a wise woman; my aunt told me, as we prepared memories for my grandma's funeral service of a story that sticks with me as I parent my kids. All my aunts friends got trips to Hawaii, or cars, or other extravagant gifts for graduating high school. So she went and asked my grandma what she was getting for graduating, to which my grandma replied, "Nothing, you're supposed to graduate high school." I strive to be so straight forward and honest with my kids, as well as teach them a life lesson along with it.
I was never really close to my grandma as a kid, and I wish I knew why. I was at her house often, I learned to swim in her pool, realized I hated diet soda there, and that fat free fudgsicles were just as good....almost...on a hot day. Yet as I grew I seemed to be further from her. That is until a huge blessing came into my life.
Not more than a week or two after I told my parents about my pregnancy with Serena, I had the dreaded task of telling the family. I imagined my family shunning me, and being ashamed of me. Especially my grandma, she grew up in a generation where this was unacceptable. I dreaded her words. Well, I finally, just as we were leaving gathered the nerve to tell my grandma about my impending baby. I braced for the harsh lashing I had imagined, but what I got was "Joan ( my aunt) did you hear that?" (Oh God, here it comes I thought) "She's having my first great-grand baby! I need to call my friends in Massachusetts. I almost beat them all! My first great-grand baby!" Not what I expected at all. It was overwhelming. To be treated as though the baby inside my belly was a happy thing, let alone a joyous thing, I hadn't expected that! A week later At Thanksgiving my grandma and aunt had a present for me, maternity clothes. To know that my grandma loved me so much she ran out to get me something, within a week, I was on cloud 9. I asked her if she would knit Serena a stocking, and though her health was bad she agreed. I was so happy to be sharing that family tradition with my baby.
Flash forward 2 months, and my grandma is admitted to the hospital. It was about 4pm on a Saturday and my mom and I go to visit her. Though she is the patient, when she sees me she gets up and tells me to sit on the bed, after all, I'm having a baby! She gets up and sits in the chair, and I remember seeing how frail she looked. As a child, I remember her as strong, but this time she seems almost tiny. It was the first time I think I saw her as a woman, a human, not just my grandma. A few nurses and orderlies walked in and she told each and every one of them that I was going to have her first great-grand baby. It was an amazing thing to go from feeling like a shame to feeling loved and valued. She began to tell my mom and I stories of her children's births and I soaked up every word. She really was shining bright that day. She was aglow. She looked better than she had in 3 or 4 months. She smiled constantly. My mom and I were there for what felt like minutes, but what was hours. We went home, and I loved the feeling of knowing my grandma loved me. She wasn't ashamed of me, she was joyous to see me be a mother. She believed in me, more than I did myself.
The next morning, as we get home from church, my dad answers the phone. We had just walked through the kitchen door, and I remember hearing him"What happened? When. We'll be right there." He turned to us and said "My mother died this morning." I burst into tears, "But mom we just saw her and she looked so well! She looked better than she had in months!" She missed her first great grand baby by 3 months.
When I got home from the hospital, I got a call from a good friend of mine. Her mom had called her from the hospital and said "Kathryn, Kathy's having a bad day, call her." See, my friends mom worked at the hospital that my grandma was staying at. In fact, that morning she went up to get my grandma for some x-rays, saw the name Percival and recognized it. She started talking to my grandma and asked if we were related. My grandma bragged about me and the great grand baby in my tummy to my friends mom, right up until her end. And then, just like that on a Sunday morning, she died. Her heart gave out and she went to meet our savior early that morning.
I was so upset, why couldn't God have let her live just 3 more stinking months to meet my baby? Why? Why so close? It wasn't until a few years ago, that I realized God's grace in my grandma's death. He knew she would go that Sunday and he gave me an amazing Saturday, one in which my whole perspective on her shifted. One in which I got to roll around in her love of me and my child. I got to hear from my best friends mother than my grandma was bragging about me up until her death. I don't know why she had to go then, but I do know that God is good and His plan left room for a new image in my heart of my grandma.
Brian and I had been tossing middle names for Serena back and forth without having any that sounded right. Then just a few days after her death, as we were parked at the beach , as I cried to Brian about my anger on her leaving too soon, we decided that Jean would be perfect. That way Serena would always have a peice of the great-grandma that loved her so dearly even though she never met her.
My Aunt told me, that before she died my grandma told her that she was looking forward to seeing my cousin graduate from medical school and me be a mom. Apparently she knew this would be my calling in life long before I did. That thought still makes me smile, everytime it dances across my brain.
As I head to my book club tomorrow,and I break out those knitting needles, I am hoping some of my grandma's skill and joy of knitting is encoded in my genes. And even if it is not, her memory will shine brightly then, as I do it in remembrance of her.
Thank you Grandma Jean, Lord knows I miss you, and I can't wait to tell you about my knitting when I get to heaven!
No comments:
Post a Comment