I found out yesterday that my Grandma Bea died the night before. The last few years weren?t great for her (my dad’s mom), as she had a stroke and never really bounced back. She?d been fading slowly these last couple of years, and it was just time. But she made it to be 98, which really ain?t a bad run, all things considered (Well, at least we think she was 98; she was always pretty secretive about her age).
My grandmother and I were never all that close, although for a few years before herI found out yesterday that my Grandma Bea died the night before. The last few years weren?t great for her (my dad’s mom), as she had a stroke and never really bounced back. She?d been fading slowly these last couple of years, and it was just time. But she made it to be 98, which really ain?t a bad run, all things considered (Well, at least we think she was 98; she was always pretty secretive about her age).
My grandmother and I were never all that close, although for a few years before her stroke we probably talked more than at any other time. But if I have one favorite Grandma Bea story, here it is:
My grandmother lived in a retirement community in New Jersey called Covered Bridge. I had gone to visit her there several times as a kid, on family trips?Thanksgiving and whatnot?but for a period during my 20s I hadn?t made it out there. Skip forward to late 2000. Liz and I were in New Jersey (before we were married), and were driving to the movies or the mall or something, and as we were driving along I noticed the entrance to Covered Bridge. I slammed on the brakes, said, ?Hey, I know that place,? and made a quick U-Turn into the development, scaring the bejeezus out of Liz.
By some Zen magic, I managed to navigate all the twists and curves of the rather large community without making a single wrong turn, and lo and behold I found my grandmother?s apartment, which I hadn?t been to in years. So I parked the car and knocked on her front door, and when my grandmother answered, she was stunned, but really happy to see me. We had a nice visit, and she got to meet Liz for the first time, so that was nice too. (At this point, my grandmother was married to a nice older guy named Leonard; my Grandpa Leon had died many years earlier from Alzheimer?s). I didn?t get too many visits with Grandma Bea after that, but this one day has always stayed with me.
The added twist to this story is that Liz?s own grandmother had also lived in Covered Bridge for many years?at the same time Grandma Bea was there?even though they never knew each other. But it lets me know that Liz and I were connected even back then. (I just like the cosmic ties …)
On another, perhaps stranger note, one good thing came out of Grandma Bea?s stroke?if there can be such a thing. It happened literary a day or two before Sept. 11, 2001, and because of the timing, afterward, she simply had no idea what happened that day (so far as I know). So living in a world without Sept. 11 and everything that has come with it probably isn?t all bad. (Still, I?m sure she?d rather not have had the stroke, but I?m looking for positives here.)
Grandma Bea had a good, long run. She married one nice man, and then another, saw all three of her kids get married, saw three of her grandkids (including me) get married, and has seven great grandkids (although I might be missing one or two; if so, sorry!)
So this blog is dedicated to Grandma Bea, and to everyone who will miss her now that she’s gone.
