My 95 year old grandmaother is dying. She hasn't been able to recognize me he last few yers. She can't see well enough or hear well enough. It's a ood thing. She's at the point where she wakes up in the middle of the night and asks if Georrge, her husband, is there. George is long gone and she still knows it. She's asking if she is finally dead. What's funny is that she didn't start that until her daughter had moved in and decided hat it would be a good idea to remodel the house so that it was easier to sell when she died. She turned the house into the most sterile thing, washed away the old furniture that had a really pleasant smell to it. That was what really just slwed my grandmother down. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe not. But my grandmother can't stand the inactivity of old age, despises it but accepts it gracefully as just another thing you have to deal with in life. At least that's how it seems. But it was only 5 years ago that she was dancing at my cousin's wedding. She kept it going for a long time. The thing is that no one really knows too much about her. Not for lack of trying to learn, but when you would ask, she would just say, "oh you don't want to hear about that! Do you want some 7-up, hang on I'll get you a glass." I didn't have the heart to tell her that I hate 7-up. But that's what it was always like. Did she hate her life? Maybe.
She grew up in Chicago around Fullerton and Sheffield. I know nothing about her mother. Her father cam from Canada and before that Scotland. He had been to Canada because he stowed away on a ship to get to Canada. After three days he came out of hiding because he was hungry. They fed him, but then sold him as an indentured servant to a logging company for 5 years. He stayed 8. And moved to Chicago. The only thing I know is that I apparently look like him and that he was a good drinker, that is he drank a lot but wasso they tell me a happy drinker who stayed active. And he built a telescope.. That doesn't really help me understand my grandmother though.
She's outlived her siblings and friends, so there won't be some old person who is wanting and willing to tell stories baout her. I imagine the sermon will be givn by my father or autn or uncle. It will probably say soemthing about how she always gave, loved port wine, and was seemingly the only person who my grandfather did not put on a demeanor of concrete around. His life was secret too. We know he was a banker. lent money to the casinos in Vegas for the weekend so they would have enough money to cover bets. Had a chapter in some Harvard book on Banking in the 70's, Used to fly down to Mexico to exchange briefcases with the guy he flew down there with, and lent money to what became United Airlines. My father found his oldpapers and after reading a few, just grabbed a match and burned them in the back yard. My father is cautious in a prudent way. It probaby wasn't really all that dirty of stuff my grandfather was into. He was also a monarch rather than a father. But the impression was that he was much better at being a husband. Which is good, my grandmother deserved that much.
I remember that soemtimes I would wake up when I was little and before I opened my eyes I would hope that I was in her house. Not for any reason or other, I was just always happy there. Which is good, since I'l be spending some time over there the next few days.
She grew up in Chicago around Fullerton and Sheffield. I know nothing about her mother. Her father cam from Canada and before that Scotland. He had been to Canada because he stowed away on a ship to get to Canada. After three days he came out of hiding because he was hungry. They fed him, but then sold him as an indentured servant to a logging company for 5 years. He stayed 8. And moved to Chicago. The only thing I know is that I apparently look like him and that he was a good drinker, that is he drank a lot but wasso they tell me a happy drinker who stayed active. And he built a telescope.. That doesn't really help me understand my grandmother though.
She's outlived her siblings and friends, so there won't be some old person who is wanting and willing to tell stories baout her. I imagine the sermon will be givn by my father or autn or uncle. It will probably say soemthing about how she always gave, loved port wine, and was seemingly the only person who my grandfather did not put on a demeanor of concrete around. His life was secret too. We know he was a banker. lent money to the casinos in Vegas for the weekend so they would have enough money to cover bets. Had a chapter in some Harvard book on Banking in the 70's, Used to fly down to Mexico to exchange briefcases with the guy he flew down there with, and lent money to what became United Airlines. My father found his oldpapers and after reading a few, just grabbed a match and burned them in the back yard. My father is cautious in a prudent way. It probaby wasn't really all that dirty of stuff my grandfather was into. He was also a monarch rather than a father. But the impression was that he was much better at being a husband. Which is good, my grandmother deserved that much.
I remember that soemtimes I would wake up when I was little and before I opened my eyes I would hope that I was in her house. Not for any reason or other, I was just always happy there. Which is good, since I'l be spending some time over there the next few days.