Grandma and the "babies"
One of 20+ years of the Christmas Cousins on "Poppie's couch"It's the beginning, the middle and the end! I LOVE Christmas. I love everything about it. The only thing that tempers the joy is that my Daddy died December 7th. He loved Christmas too. I miss him a little more around this time of year. I know Mama does. That's what makes this even harder. I know that I should take care of her without complaint. But, it is HARD. I didn't expect to be the caregiver for teenagers and a Grandma. When Daddy died, I said I would do anything to help and I did. I moved in with my husband (God bless him), my children (6 and 3), lock, stock, and barrel! Did I mention MY grandma lived there too? So anyway...point is, I've been doing this caregiver thing for a while.My mom has recently taken to falling. Forward, backward, sideways...every which way but loose. She has bad knees, diabetes, osteoporosis...and so it goes. I talk to her oh, probably 12 times a day. Did I mention she lives within spittin' distance? So I see her daily as well.
My mom is a throwback. She wanted to be a wife and mother. She wanted to stay home with her kids. She was raised by her "Mama and Papa" because her mom was a wild child. She was "Mother" to her, never Mama. She grew up knowing who her father was and that he didn't take care of her as he did his "legitimate" children. She loved him still and cried when he died. She cooked every meal, washed all the clothes, paid all the bills, wiped most of the tears and cleaned most of the scraped knees. Daddy was in the Navy until 1966 and Mama had four kids at home. Kids born in 1955, 1956, 1957, and 1966 (that'd be me and no, I am not an accident) She didn't drive...never had a license. She taught me about God and took me to church every Sunday. She made sure I knew that was the most important thing. She was instrumental in the integration of our school in the early 70's. She babysat in the 80's so I could have Lacoste shirts and a car. She kept Daddy from killing my brothers when they wrecked cars. She kept him from killing my sister when she wrecked a Jeep with me in the front seat and my teeth hit the dashboard. She babysat for me in the 90's so I could work without paying for daycare. She cried right along with me when I became the first college graduate in our family(at age 39.) I don't think she could have been more proud. So, when I think about it, maybe I owe her a little more than I like to give. I know she won't be here for a whole lot longer. And I know I'll miss seeing that phone number (which we've had for my whole life) on the caller ID. Maybe it takes seeing things in black and white to see them clearly.
Maybe I should let her read this too.
