Grandma Crawford

My grandmother died March 21, 1996 at the age of 88 (or so it is believed, she never would reveal her true age to anyone) I held her hand as she dies. I watched her take her dying breath. One minute she was alive...the next, gone. I'd never seen anyone die before, and while it was peaceful serene, I hope I never see that again.
I was especially close to my grandmother. She spoiled me to no end...like giving me $10 to take her trash out to the alley. Or paying me $25 to mow her lawn. She was hard-headed though and told me when I was out of line. She didn't pull any punches, my Gram.

After I graduated from high school she and I took a trip to Arizona to spend time with my cousin there...the granddaughter she'd raised. We had a great time. Especially since she was so hard of hearing you'd have to yell directly into her ear and you'd be lucky if she understood half of what you said. That made for a fun plane ride, let me tell you.

I try to remember the good times...the fun events. And I try to forget the last week of her life. The week she spent in a coma-like state (I forget what the medical term for it is)

I remember her smile. The way she'd clap her hands together and laugh. How she liked to watch wrestling on television and get so animated when her guy wasn't winning.
I try to forget the things she told me. Forget about the reasons I was raised the way I was. Forget her tears when she was betrayed by her own daughters.

I lived with her the last six months she was in her home before being 'placed' in a nursing home. Those were not easy months, but I learned more about her and my family in that time than I did in the previous 23 years of my life.
She showed me old photographs of my great-grandfather...something I'd never seen before. We talked about my mother and I learned things I wouldn't know to this day.
The things she told me weren't said for spite. She told me so at least I would have understanding even if I couldn't have acceptance. I respect that.

I miss her. I feel so much guilt over her death. I was old enough to handle things differently, I could have done something to make her happier. At least I could have prevented them from cutting down her apple tree, the one she planted the year she moved into her home. That broke her heart.

I still talk to her sometimes. And I know she is listening. I know she is watching over me even though I failed her. I know she is holding my son while he sleeps and keeping him safe as he plays.

She was an incredible woman in her own way, and she will live in my heart always. That's one home that will never be taken away from her.

I love you Gram!