My grandma died this morning. As you can see, she lived a
very long life. It was also a very full life. My grandma was born, grew up,
lived, and died in Francis, Utah; a small town which has a past as a small
farming community. My grandma was the epitome of hard work. My dad (and my
grandma) frequently told me stories of how she would drive hay wagons as well
as load hay during the haying season. I even remember her supervising our
haying seasons when I was little.
She also was a expert flood irrigator. (Although I’m
slightly terrified to know how rotted my parent’s floorboards are from the
flooding they received every time she watered.) She made sure our acre and half
was lush and green. She was also a great veterinarian. She knew how best to
treat our animals, whether they be bovine, equine, or ovine. I particularly
remember how she was instrumental during lambing season. Due to her efforts, I
am sure we saved many lambs which provided me with savings for college.
She was also fearless, although that left her with a few
bumps and scraps in the form of broken limbs and skin tears. She would help
train our spirited race horses and she would show our cranky rams who was boss
(although that was how a few of the injuries occurred). She also wasn’t afraid
to speak her mind, whether it was telling off someone who she felt had wronged
her or telling a grand-daughter she was a little chunky. (Although the latter
did cause me to reevaluate my relationship with food and exercise.)
She loved to spoil me (and the rest of her many
grandchildren). I was the youngest grandchild by many years, and I lived next
door to my grandma for nearly 19 years (plus a couple of summers). I spent
quite a bit of time over at her house. I remember particularly during the
summer I was about 10, I would feed my show lambs, then go over to my grandma’s
and drink Swiss Miss hot chocolate with mini marshmallows out of the cow cups.
Then I would take over her couch and tv and watch PBS shows like Ghostwriter
and Magic School Bus. That lasted all summer, and she never complained once.
When I was younger, my grandmother always made homemade
Christmas presents for me, including porcelain dolls, fancy Barbie dresses, and
a quillow. Later when her fingers weren’t able to crochet or sew anymore, she
began buying me clothes. The only
problem was they were all cowgirl clothes, and I wasn’t really into cowgirl
clothes, but they were handy during my horse show days. My “favorite” present occurred
sometime during high school. For some reason I was snooping through her bedroom
looking at Christmas presents. There was a soft baby doll, and I jokingly
expressed interest in it, then didn’t think anything of it. Christmas morning I
was surprised by the same baby doll under the Christmas tree. I wasn’t quite
sure how to act, but I hope she never figured out that I wasn’t ecstatic about
the doll.
My grandma suffered from a heart attack my sophomore year of
high school. She was able to pull through, but since then she hasn’t been at
full strength. After a long recovery, she was able to get back up to the barn,
but that is when she started getting her injuries. She was able to continue
birthing lambs and water the field, but she was slowing down. Three years ago,
she contracted pneumonia and had super low blood pressure and had to be
admitted to the hospital. We thought we were going to lose her then, but she
rallied and enjoyed her 95th birthday celebration the next year.
However, the past year, and especially the last few months, she has had a low
hematocrit and has been consistently slowing down. At the beginning of the
month, she became bedridden, and it became evident we were going to lose her
soon.
Kevin and I were able to see her three times before we lost
her, most recently yesterday. The hardest part of her passing is seeing how
weak she had become, especially yesterday. That is not how I envision or want
to remember my grandmother. I see her as the epitome of strength. To see her weak,
reinforces to me how weak we truly are and how fragile life is. However, I am
glad I was able to be there in her last hours. That way I will have no regrets.
I still have regrets from when my other grandmother died about going camping
rather than visiting her again.
