On April 23, 2001, I lost someone very special to me, and wrote about it on an old Message Board Community I belonged to then reposted the story for the Thanksgiving Season, my 2nd year as a blogger, in 2003.
As Thanksgiving and Christmas come around again memories of this person bring a smile to my face.
I am grateful for Granma Leona, and wish to share why once again.
What follows is an edited version of a much longer piece….
What makes a Grandmother? Is it blood-ties? Not always, and I should know...
I just lost the best damn Grandmother a man could ever have.
I just found out an hour ago, and the funeral is in a little over 2 hours...
What makes a Grandmother?
I had the pleasure of knowing only one of my Blood Grandmothers, but she got old & senile and died, before I, in my teens & early 20's got to really know her.
LEONA, or just plain GRANMA, as we called her, was another story. When I was 9, a few months before my Dad became mentally ill, we moved next door to an Aunt and Uncle. Across the street was a middle aged couple they were longtime friends with who, like them, ran a foster home for Mentally Disabled Girls.
As those first few years went by, and we got to know one another, my mother became friends with the couple as well, and my sisters and I had some contact with young people of a most unusual nature with whom we became friends in a way that is hard to explain. As time went by, the Aunt and Uncle died, and my father became ill, and my mother began to raise us alone, LEONA and her
husband, very devout Pentecostals, began to help my mother in small ways.
She watched the house and the girls for them when they went someplace, or on vacation, & was paid for it. The 2 ladies canned fruit and veggies together, crocheted for each other’s families, & Leona provided a shoulder to cry on for my mom, and in later years, for me as well.
In my teens, Leona's husband got me involved in volunteer work as a way to get me away from the house & my mind off of a lot of things, if even for a little while. I made extra money by mowing their lawn and doing yard work for 20 years.
It's funny, but we didn't really start calling her Granma until after her husband, Lester, died. Before, it was always Mrs. and Mr. Wood (The photo is from 1980 I have one of the 3 of us, somehwhere, but can't find it at the moment).
She was a funny, generous, kind, and wise woman with a sense of humor that
appreciated mine, who, despite her avid Pentecostalism, never went on a crusade to convert others, and accepted others faith and cultures with ease.
I remember getting her to watch The Last Temptation Of Christ and actually enjoying it. :-D
In later years she helped my mother and I in so many ways, too numerous to mention. My sisters, too. She lent an ear to them ( & me ) in their teenage years (me, even as an adult) that they still appreciate to this day.
And as she entered her 70's & finally retired from Foster care, our family returned her kindness the only way we knew how, by being there for her until she was unable to live alone, 5 years ago, and moved to Hawaii to live with one of her daughters.
In recent years I wrote to her and she wrote back, until over the last two years, letters and e-mail were not returned from that end so I stopped writing. I knew it had to be because of her frail health, being in her 80's and all, but was rather annoyed that no-one bothered to apprise us of this situation, knowing how close we were.
I wish I could have said good-bye before she died, but it was not to be.....
THE NEXT EVENING I WROTE A FOLLOW-UP:
Grandma, age 85, broke her leg 6 weeks ago, and was recuperating when she contracted pneumonia, & the race was on to see what other complications could arise and which would be the last straw. She died listening to her favorite Christian music, with family {the Baha’i branch, that cared for her these last 4 years :-) } by her bedside.
At the funeral, I met the slightly younger sister she always talked about and a surviving brother. Seeing the Sis was a comfort because she was the near spitting image of Grandma & sounded just like her. She was a sweet Old Lady who seemed a little lost amongst the younger generation of relatives whose Pentecostalism, unlike the older folks, was patterned after the Crouches Trinity Broadcasting.
I never could figure out Grandma's Children & their families. Nice people to talk to, and obviously caring folks according to their beliefs, but they always seemed uncomfortable when visiting our street.
You see, we not only lived in a mostly minority neighborhood, but Gran ran a foster home for the mentally retarded for 25 years, up until she went to live in Hawaii 4 yrs. ago. I grew up with the girls she raised, and helped learn to do so many things. She was renown in the Inland Empire for running a Sunday School Class for the Mentally Retarded out of her church for 15 years. The only one of its kind I have ever heard of.
She was a loving, caring woman who didn't give a rats behind what race, religion, or economic status you were, & didn't consider it her duty to live life as a crusade to save souls. She figured that by her example she could do more to help people than by preaching them a sermon.
At the service, it was instructive to me who came forward to say a few words when the opportunity was offered. The Baha’i Son-in-law who took her in spoke humorously and eloquently, then a neighbor of ours for those 28 years, a black man, now 69 years old, walked up the isle past all those pale faces, & spoke haltingly, lovingly, humorously and proudly of what Leona and her husband had meant to his family. He even mentioned my departed Mom as well.
I then surprised myself, by doing something I didn't even do at my Mom's own funeral (being too distraught)… I stood alone in front of 50 people, and spoke of the Woman I knew, and what she had done for our family, in being there for my mom, and us kids as we grew up without a father. I know I shocked a few in the audience by saying that this old woman loved me as I was, with my off beat, and sometimes raunchy sense humor that always made her laugh. That I talked her into watching Scorsese’s movie about Christ and that she admitted afterward to finding many things to like about it, especially when she understood why the book had been written.
I could have talked their ears off about so many things that they never knew about the type of person she was and the things she did with us and her neighbors, but I held myself to 15 minutes, not wanting to shock the poor dears too much, and being afraid I might get really emotional.
The only other person to speak was a young grandson, a preacher, who I realized by his emotions, was one of the few of her descendants that had a full grasp and appreciation for the woman that she was. He was as totally grief stricken as her siblings, and her friends.
Her children, while grieving, were unable to sort out their feelings enough to openly express themselves as we did. I feel sorry for them.
After the graveside event, the Baha’i members quietly stood next to her grave and held their own ceremony while almost everyone else either headed to the buffet, or stood nearby chattering amongst themselves.
I admired their guts, and their love.
I represented our family well at the buffet, because I knew if I didn't, my Ma would come back and haunt me and if I didn't eat like a horse, Grandma would come back to haunt me as punishment also. :-D
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As this Holiday Season gets underway, dear reader, share with your children, if you have any, or with your significant other, if you don't just yet, favorite stories of your deceased family members, and other ancestors.
Bring a smile to your face, and theirs, and feel the warm fuzzies that such memories bring alive.
Thanks to my friend, Amanda Socci, for the inspiration to share this store anew...
Day 18: Gratitude for the Tiny Grandmother is a rich and detailed story about family, past and present.
Next up: 30 Days of Gratitude Writing Challenge #19: Boy, Have I Got a Deal For You!
Darling. Thank you, Kiril, for citing me as your source of inspiration for renewring your story about grandma Leona (and for citing my url, as well).
The story you recounted was rich in facts and history, as always. So sorry for your loss, but I am delighted you are reliving warm and positive memories.
Posted by: Amanda Socci | November 18, 2012 at 09:37 PM