My grandmother was found dead in her room at the assisted living facility this morning. She had dressed herself and relaxed in her recliner. By the time an aid came to check on her she was gone. There was no noticeable cause of death. Her hands weren’t clenched, just relaxed at her sides, as if welcoming the peace.
We had just visited her only a few weeks ago. We talked about both of us being the mom of two boys and I remember Gabe taking a particular liking to her, even whispering the secret into her deaf ear, “I love you.” You never know when you leave someone if it will be the last time you see them. It wasn’t even really on my mind that day. But I am thankful now that we shared that time and space.
I will always remember my Grandma Ruth as a strong woman with a wild sense of adventure. She endured hardships from being born legally blind, to surviving the Depression, to staying strong during the war, to coping with her only sibling’s death, to raising two boys with meager means and being a great advocate for the one born blind. She forged her way through all adversity and even ended up helping other young women meet their potential as a girl scout leader.
No wonder I love the outdoors so much considering both she and my grandfather were scout leaders… in fact that is where their romance began; once upon a campground. Imagine kindling your love amid tents full of rambunctious adolescents. It was just the beginning of their travels together. There was many a destination and pit stops along the way.
Their roots were in Queens, but I can only remember back to their house in Nassau: cool dips in the nearby creek, walks down the dirt path. Grandma used to pack a few Oreo cookies in little baggies for us to take along on our adventures. I remember watching her. Grandpa’s old rock collection, their ancient bowling machine, and Grandma tolerating Grandpa’s dusty treasures as far as the eye could see.
They had a brief stint in an Albany apartment before they retired to Florida where we took many pilgrimages to visit them in their new humid home. Although that was the residence on their license, they continued to explore. Trips from Alaska, to Hawaii, to camping trips in the Airstream; what fun it was to ride the silver bullet. They later graduated to the Winnebago. I have a slew of memories collected from the wilderness campground at Disney where we shared the outdoors with Chip and Dale to a camping out by the Herkimer Diamond Mines where we chiseled away at quartz and I wore the fragment around my neck in a little golden cage as if royalty in disguise. And getting to the destination was most of the adventure what with my grandfather’s flare for some wild driving, his tongue jutting out in focus while my grandmother clenched the dashboard and barked directions.
They were two strong willed people who spoke their minds, often to each other, but they also spoke up when they saw something was unjust, and at a time where I am sick from the plague of apathy, I have to say that I was happy to see this passion… despite the four letter parts that would sometimes accompany it.
My Grandma spoke her mind, but she was far from serious though. The woman was quick to laugh and devilish when it came to pranks. I will never forget the Thanksgiving we were visiting my grandparents at their old house up in Nassau when my grandfather made some sort of comment that didn’t settle well and the next thing we know my grandmother gave two warning shakes of a can of whip cream and then sprayed my grandfather’s glasses with a coat of white foam. Oh it makes my heart both ache and giggle to think of my grandfather sitting at the table, his mouth twisted and his moist, opaque glasses sitting on his nose. That’s how the Moore’s operate. Act first, think later… and I have to say the approach did them well for the most part.
They were quite a pair those two. In fact after sixty years of marriage, it was hard to refer to them as two, they had somehow managed to become one entity albeit of extremes, but one entity none the less. Both with their virtues and both with their vices, they managed to stick together all those years. I can’t imagine having a reminder of yourself: your history, your choices, your dreams and your defeats lying beside you every night when you go to sleep and waking up next to you every morning. Or even harder to imagine the first night when that person reflecting all of that isn’t there.
It’s no wonder my grandma’s hands were so relaxed, so still when they found her. She was able to release this fragmented part of her life where she was only a piece of something bigger. This morning she was able to return to my grandfather and I would like to think that that was her last thought in the end… that and that she was loved.