Large Marge

Large Marge was a force to be reckoned with. It wasn't due to her physical presence by any means, she was a mere five feet tall; she was simply overflowing with ideas, opinions and character. She was my mother-in-law, and she remained a close friend even after her son ~ my late husband, died twenty-two years ago.

We got off to a rocky start. Her first reaction to having her favorite son married was to take over my home. I was inundated with jars of soup, Tupperware containers of meat and questionable hot-dishes, freezer bags full of cookies. Her cooking was actually quite atrocious...she had never met an herb or spice that she liked, and that included salt.

Personally, I was insulted and aggrieved that she seemed determined to take my place from the get-go. Things came to a head when we were gone over a weekend and Marge decided to bring food over anyway. What she encountered was a refrigerator and freezer absolutely bursting with full containers of food. Understandably she was seriously offended ~ but that ended the never-ending slew of not-quite edibles that had overloaded our kitchen.

This was only the first of many problems resolved. For some reason she decided that our laundry was simply too much for me to handle, so she began driving out to our cabin in the woods twice a week to collect it. I had not yet learned the 'art of saying no' to Marge, so although I tried to get the laundry done ahead of time, there was always something for her to haul back home.

Marge had one method of doing laundry: hot water and high speed in the washer, and hot air and high speed in the dryer. I finally reached the end of my patience one day when I was about eight months pregnant with my first child. I had gained a massive amount of weight, and I was very hard put to find clothing that I liked that also fit me. I was out of town for the day, and when I came back that evening, Marge met me with a basket full of clothes she had snuck in, abducted and then washed. Not only had she washed the color out of them, but but they were approximately three sizes too small. I don't remember what I said, but I do remember that that was the last time she did my laundry.

In general, we retained a superficially friendly relationship, but I think both of us had had our patience strained almost to breaking point. The turning point came when I had the first of my two sons. I was basically beside myself when it came to taking care of a baby. Not only did I have no idea what to do, but I was fanatically worried about every possible bad thing that could conceivably happen. Probably many things that couldn't happen, too, to be on the safe side.

Marge was nearly as smitten with my new son as I was, and after three months, when I finally dared to let go of him for a moment or two, she began asking to take him for a few hours. It didn't matter to me that she had raised five healthy children ~ I still harbored a deep distrust in her or anyone who wanted to take him out of my sight ~ but necessity proved stronger than my fears. I had barely slept in months, he would not stop crying and I felt close to a breakdown. So I drove him over for a bit, went home, and slept the sleep of the dead.

This became a routine; two or three times a week she would watch him and I would either collapse or clean or go shopping. I was so grateful to her that I would stay and talk to her when I went to pick him up, and gradually we reached a detente. We disagreed in many basic areas such as politics and religion, but we also found much commonality in our outlook on life. She was a very bold, liberal woman; she had been so her whole life, and I was very interested in the things she had accomplished as well as how she had accomplished them.

After my husband died and left me with two young boys, she became even more integral to my life. The kids loved Gramma Marge whole-heartedly, and she spoiled them richly in the ways only Grandmas know how to do. They could do no wrong in her eyes, and I admired her no-holds-barred love and willingness to help in any situation that she could.

I learned many things from her, but one of the most important was that no matter how old you are, you can change and be a better person. She was very humble, and spent many years apologizing to me for 'trying to do too much'. I spent those years wishing I had appreciated her more and understood that she wasn't trying to stand in my way, she was simply trying a bit too hard to help and to be included in our lives.

I found Marge to be inspirational in many ways, including finally focusing on the things I needed to change in my own life and realizing that I could actually transform the way I thought and approached life. I was very thankful to be an ear for her wandering thoughts as she grew older and more confused. I was honored that she had always called me her daughter; it meant a lot to know that she cared that much for me.

Last summer I lost touch with her. She had been placed in a nursing home and no one had told me or given me her new number. I was terribly worried about her, and before I could ever speak with her again, she died. No one will ever be able to take her place in my heart, she was an amazing woman. My children and I went to her memorial service, and although I was much saddened by the loss of her, I know she was overjoyed to have been reunited with her beloved son.

Rest in peace, Gramma Marge...