monday's mulling: grandma

I am in the midst of a much needed project: organizing my arts/crafts and sewing supplies. Five years ago I had a lot of space to store my supplies but after a series of moves they've ended up in a box over here and in a bin over there, in a random drawers around the house. In the last few months, I've made Christmas stockings for my granddaughter and daughter-in-law and then the zines for my grandsons and it was stressful because I spent so much time looking for "stuff." 

A couple days ago I found three boxes of books and they are now on shelves...yay! In one of the boxes was one of my grandpa's diaries. While plodding through the pages of his 1977 journal (his handwriting was horrible), every single day he mentioned visiting Clara, my grandma. He documented my grandma's Alzheimer's journey. 

Wednesday, February 23, 1977. My grandma died 49 years ago today. 

Grandma always said that Grandpa's handwriting looked like chickens were hopping all over the pages. It always took a bit of time to decipher what he wrote.

"Clara passed away while at coffee. Jack Stucky said John wanted to talk with me. Said Mother was bad. She passed away before I got there. Will have funeral Friday 10. Visitation tomorrow night 5-9. I have a couple hard days ahead. Picked out casket etc this evening. Have called _______." (Couldn't figure that one out. Maybe Arizona as my grandparents spent their winters there).

I was a sophomore in college, Mom called me with the news that Grandma died. I was sitting at the desk in my dorm room working on a paper for an English class and the tears just spilled onto that paper. My college was 45 minutes from home, Mom told me to pack some clothes and a couple nice outfits because Dad would be there in a couple hours to take my siblings and me to Illinois. She had called the schools for my siblings' dismissals, got all their clothes in suitcases, and was heading to Illinois as soon as she got off the phone.

Grandma was a devout Catholic and this date, February 23, 1977, was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. The funeral was on Friday, the first one in this Lenten season. During Lent Catholics are to abstain from eating meat and consume minimal amounts of food on Fridays to imitate Jesus' 40-day fast in the desert. My grandpa was Mennonite and all the ladies from his church provided food for the after funeral reception. And this food included meat - ham, fried chicken, meatballs, and all sorts of marvelous desserts - things that Catholics should fast from on Lenten Fridays. There was an air of what are we supposed to do with all this good food that we're not supposed to eat and the priest is here, too? The priest came through and gave a dispensation to any Catholic who chose to eat the meat dishes (and desserts) that the ladies so lovingly prepared could do so. Hallelujah!

I adored my grandma. I envied my cousins because they lived in the same town as my grandparents and could visit them whenever they wanted. Because of my dad's job, we always lived 4-5 hours away from them and got to visit two or three times a year. But whenever we arrived at their house, Grandma was always on the back porch stoop, waiting for us as the family car crunched down the gravel driveway, with her smile and open arms that said, "It's about time you got here!"