One Last Life Lesson

My grandmother, my mother’s mother, was always an important part of life. Many of my fondest childhood memories include holidays with her as well as summer days spent at her house. She was the only grandparent that was a part of my life after my grandfather, her husband, passed away just before my 5th birthday. But I never felt that I missed out on having more grandparents, she was always more than enough for me. She shared secrets and treats and was always the one to bestow the most wonderful surprises at Christmas and birthdays. But even more important than that, she always had more love to share than any one person I have ever known. She lived for her family, to do for them and care for them in any way she could. And no matter what time of the day or night you entered her home, the smile on her face told you that she was genuinely excited and thankful to see you.

For several years during my childhood, I spent each summer day at her house. I was a latchkey kid before there was even a term for it. We talked, she taught me to play chess, we watched TV and we did chores. But no matter what we were doing, it was fun because I was doing it with her. She talked to me like a person and not like an adult speaking to a child. And when she asked me a question she was really expecting an answer. We didn’t always agree on the answer, but if I could explain my reasons and defend them, then she was willing to accept that we disagreed. She never told me I was wrong, we simply agreed to disagree.

I learned so much from her during those summers. She was the daughter of an English teacher, but she never went to college. She started a family and stayed home to raise her children. Later in life, she went to work in the lab at Buckeye Steel Casting. She had no formal training or education for the work, but she had a sharp mind and a will to learn. Her mother’s teaching background engrained her love of learning and an articulate and substantial vocabulary. There was never any doubt what she was thinking or the meaning of her words, but she was always a lady albeit a strong-willed lady. Grandma could smile at you and dress you down in the most polite tone using nothing but the most ladylike words. She left you feeling smaller than a speck of dust. She didn’t need to shout, swear or belittle to let you know exactly what she thought of you. She didn’t need to lower herself to that level nor would she ever allow herself to be baited into such uncivilized actions.

Sadly, later in her life dementia and Alzheimer’s robbed her of that sharp mind and wit. But not her ability and will to love her family completely and without question. She became more outspoken which was shocking at times, even though I was an adult. Never before in my life had we ever shared harsh words or had she flatly told me no and dug her heels in. But in her current mental condition, there were times she simply could not be reasoned with. That was very difficult for me to learn to accept. I had to learn to pick my battles with her and also to realize that it was time for me to look after her and her best interests. That meant that at times, I had to see that she did something she didn’t want to such as going to a doctor’s appointment.

The worst of our battles came the day that I had to be a part of taking away her cigarettes. She needed to be on oxygen, and the two simply did not mix. But in her mind, we were overreacting. She would give in and use the oxygen, but the cigarettes were not going away. So she proceeded to hide dozens of packs of cigarette and lighters throughout the house. Finally, we managed to rid the house of both cigarettes and lighters only to learn that she was paying neighbors to buy her cigarette and she was lighting them on the gas stove, all while wearing her oxygen cannula. The morning that I stopped by and caught her lighting her cigarette on the gas burner she tried to scold me saying she was being careful, the cannula was behind her head! We finally had to put a sign high above her front door warning the neighbors that she had oxygen and not to buy her cigarettes. She was not very happy with us that day. But even during her most difficult periods, I never questioned her love for me and I never lost respect for the strong lady she was.

Our final disagreement will always haunt me in a strange way. She was very committed to her church. It was founded by my later grandfather’s people when they traveled to America from Germany. My grandparents, parents aunts, and uncles were all married there, and we were church members from birth. It was never a choice for us as children or young adults, but as we grew and developed our own sense of religion, each of my siblings and I left that church. I was the youngest and last to leave the church. It was Grandma’s wish that I find my way back to that church. She tried one last time to convince me to return; it was just a few days before she passed. She told me how much it would mean to my mother to have me return to the family church. She even said please when she asked. Her voice was weak and her face was drawn. It was clear that she would not be with us very much longer. She held my hand and stared into my eyes expectantly. I knew that she would never live long enough to return to that church or to see me there sitting with the family. I could easily tell her that I would go back and she would never be the wiser. She would die thinking I was going back. But I couldn’t end our relationship on a lie. This was the person who had taught me, and more importantly showed me, what it meant to be a strong person, a strong woman.

With tears running down my cheeks, I held her hand and told her that I loved her, and because of that, I could not lie to her. I would not return to that church. It was not where I belonged, and I would not be coerced into going back. She held tightly to my hand and we shed a few tears together then she drifted off to sleep. That was our last meaningful talk.

I don’t regret my choice not to lie to her. It was the right thing to do. It was the respect that she deserved just as she had always shown me respect. What I regret is that I wasn’t wise enough to understand that there was more I should have told her. That was the moment when I should have thanked her for all that she had been to me, all the love she had given me and all that she had taught me in my life. I should have told her that she was the one who taught me to be strong in my conviction, state my reasons and then defend them. She gave me the courage and the ability to live a life that is true to myself and my heart. She lived a life that showed me how to be a good person, an honest person and a person who can be trusted and counted on. She gave me the self-confidence to stand up and say no, even to her, and even though I knew that she would never know the difference. She taught me all that mattered was that I would know the difference. To this day, I wish I had been able to see past my feelings and personal struggle that day to grasp her feelings. But being only in my 20’s at the time, I didn’t have that perspective yet. I hope she understands that I didn’t say no to spite her, I said no because of her; and all that she meant to me. That day my lesson from her was to do what was right not what was easy. That lesson has served me well in life, and I hope she knows that and how much I will always love and respect her.