The last few years of her life, she sat in her chair watching TV. Not that it was much different than a lot of her life J.. however.. she used to watch it by choice. In the end, it was all there was to do for her. If she moved, she was in pain. Her body simply wore out. It had had a hard life of some work… and a lot of drinking. Her life was entertained by the TV, and any communication from her family. It was a lifeline that I don’t think they knew about. Any letter or call was shared with “news” of how everybody was. She kept me connected to cousins I had not seen in years, and aunts and uncles that were busy with their own kids and grandkids. She would worry, stress about the world news. Get very depressed when there was no word from the people that were on her mind all the time. She still laughed at times, but it was short lived. Not a lot to look forward to yet she tried.
I remember going to visit her one afternoon. She had told me that she had found a friend. If I remember right, it was at an AA organization for singles or some type of social deal where you don’t meet face to fact but can contact each other for support.
I didn’t think much about the friend until the phone call that I was witness to while I was there. It was like any normal visit for she and I J… We did not always agree on things and she would give me her two cents and I would listen to her values and preferences then tell her what I was going to do anyway. Looking at her that day, she was in her chair, with oxygen tank connected to her, and smoking her camel cigarettes at the same time…. And she wonders why I did not always follow her advice. Her eyes were faded blue, her face happy to see me, but a pasted smile for my benefit. She was uncomfortable and there was no move or position that was going to change it, but she only had to smile while I was there. We talked a while, made some coffee, caught up on things. She had told me about this new friend. How they had not met yet but talked on the phone. It was a man. An elderly gentleman as she put it. They had everything in common, and were both lonesome for company. The first conversation was short by my standards but to them it was a long time to hold the phone. She was telling me the details and I noticed something, she was, excited about telling me. That something grew into a graphic face and a real smile. It was a breath of life…sneaking in. This older gentleman was single/widowed, lived an hour away, had been calling her for weeks, couple times a day, and she returned the calls. They had already spent hours talking to each other. While I was there, the phone rang. She answered. That breath of life not only snuck in, it took over. I was allowed to see a transformation from a woman in her late 70’s turn into a teenage girl right before my eyes. Right down to the giggling. I was not ignored, but I was not the immediate priority J I waited, looking at magazines and pictures of my family members that they had sent her. Dear Momma, love etc etc.
She was so alive, so vibrant. Even the pain took a step back and let her be for just a few minutes. She smiled, giggled, flirted, showed compassion, interest and had something to look forward to. The next call. When the call was over, she was still on cloud 9. She looked at me and said “Carrie Lynn, I think I have… a.. boyfriend” J and then she giggled again. She told me that they had planned to meet when she got a ride to the city for a meeting. He didn’t drive either. He smoked, she smoked, his family was moved away with a few close by but didn’t see them much. They would meet in another month. … until then… they talked and talked and talked. I was happy for her. For just a little bit of time… one more time she was able to tap into that lil thing we call youth and love. It was like she never left it, yet longed for it. Didn’t know it was missing until it hit once again at a ripe old age. I will never forget those faded blue eyes… that this relationship put a twinkle in. Her eyes telling me about it, talking on the phone and the afterglow of the conversation…. Were not faded at all, but vibrant, with a sparkle that lasted for a little while.
I was on the road so I would call to check in with her almost regularly.. things were still cool. Then I came for a visit again, and I asked how the meeting had went. With a wave of her hand as in dissing it. She said ick. He was nothing like he described, he was rude and never shut up. He smoked too much and was a whiner. Thru her teenage eyes she also saw what she thought was the ideal elderly man. He probably in turn did not think of his dream girl on oxygen in the fantasy of it all. She had the same faded blue eyes with uncomfortable pain once again. This time no teenage breath of air for a reprieve. She smiled for real and said.. aww well. I think I’m done with romance. She had me change the channel to the animal planet. Got her some coffee. Hugged her stiff little shoulders that felt like a little bird. So fragile, so breakable. I don’t have to wonder if her heart was the same as that, I know it was. So it was back to watching TV and waiting for phone calls from her family and getting the mail delivered. That was the day for her, food was not interesting, she watched Disney, animal planet, religious shows and old movies. Looked out the window at the retaining wall that was across the street where the Little white church was above it. That was her view. She looked at it every day. The TV was beside the window. Her chair across the room. We went back to the saying “today is a good day to die” from one of our favorite movie lines.
Her birthday was in October. She hated the way her body was as she grew older. Her pains, her broken hip, her limitations. She didn’t feel pretty anymore. The little tube of lipstick didn’t do the magic it used to when she was younger. Yet. When anyone came to visit, she grabbed it and put some on, just for color you see J. She was so disgusted about her breasts that she even flashed my mother in law. She said.. hey wanna see something totally disgusting? We all laughed including my grandmother, but there was a bit of too much real in that for her. Not something you see every day. As I write this, it is a flashing (pardon the pun) memory about the sad stuff, and a whole lotta memories flood in about all the good. I see her eyes, bright and twinkling, full of piss and vinegar, her yahoooooooo , her feather in her hat, her hanging on to the fire engine on the back, headed for Deadwood an hour away, and her robbing the 1980 train one more time. I love you Gramma,
Guess the moral of this story is, youth & love or the combination of it: has no limits, it can reach even thru the years of age, thru pain, thru lonely, and put you right back in the moment. Not even distance is a factor. Better to have loved for a breath of life lived in youth again, than to never have dreamed at all.
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