Fragments ~ 2

Fragments

“Do you remember Sundays in the old days? I s’pose you are too young to remember my old days. After all I am your grandmother. That was just silly of me. Why don’t I try to paint you a picture - not in real paint - I’ll just tell you a story. There were always hats. New hats every Easter.”

Grandmother Sarah looked off into the distance as if trying to conjure up those days. She started to hum quietly. I just listened and watched as her thinning lips barely moved to old familiar words. It wasn’t even close to Easter but her memories as they surfaced were a wonderful connection with a Grandmother I was slowly losing. Her soft wrinkled skin, made even softer when she smiled, was beautiful with her storied memories. 

“Tell me about the hats, Grandmother. What were they like?”

“Were we talking about hats? What kind of hats, dear? Oh yes, Easter hats. Well, everyone in the family, except the men of course, got new Easter bonnets. They weren’t like the bonnets with big shiny ribbons that tied under your chin. I hated those - still do! Never could stand anything tied under my chin. I felt like I was choking. Even when the nurse tucks my blankets up close over my neck and under my chin.”

Tears welled in her gray-blue eyes that only a moment before had been shining with the passion of old memories. It had only taken a second. I should have been used to the sudden shifts in emotion after the last six years of her declining health ~ it always made me sad. I wanted to bundle her up and take her home with me, but even a hug could frighten her. So I gently touched her arm to remind her that I was there with her.

“Those Easter bonnets must have been beautiful.”

“Beautiful and fun! And when we went to church, everybody looked at everybody else’s to see who had new hats and who was wearing the same old hat with new ribbons or flowers on it!”

“Let’s walk a bit, Grandmother. My old knees are getting stiff sitting on this bench.”

“Old knees? Why, you must be the same age as my granddaughter and she is definitely not old. Where do you want to walk to?  I’m not sure I should be with you.”

“But Grandmother, I am your grand-daughter. See here’s a picture of us with mother and dad.”

“Well, I don’t know where that came from but I do recognize everyone, just can’t remember their names.”

Now the tears were welling up in my eyes. We had been walking toward a nurse coming across the lawn to meet us. At one time I resented these strangers taking care of my Grandmother, but now I was grateful for people that cared passionately for my very special Grandmother. I knew she was safe from the outside world of everyday life, even while her inside world got more frightening for her. The nurse suggested to me that the inside world may grow quieter, but until then I would listen to Grandmother’s stories piece by piece.

“What was scattered gathers.

What was gathered blow away.”

~ Heraclitus