Ode to Ada

The day I lost my Great-Grandma Ada is a day I have never quite recovered from. I awoke on March 5th, 2006 to news that would rock the world of any 10-year-old. My Grandma Sharon’s cell phone was going off and it woke me up first, I had fallen asleep with my grandma on her bed the night before watching TV and honestly, once I’m unconscious, it’s too much effort to try to get me up. I remember sitting up and nudging my grandma telling her the phone was going off. I handed her the cell phone and saw my uncle’s name as the contact. Her brother, my great uncle, was living with my grandma Ada helping to take care of her. She had just gotten out of a recent hospital stay and we had just been over there the day before. All of the family had actually. We had spent the day eating and going through old family photos with Grandma Ada at the helm sharing all of the memories she could give us about them. Grandma Sharon answered the phone and I could hear my uncle’s words on the other end. My Grandma Ada was on her way to the hospital, and it was bad.

Thinking back, I have never seen my Grandma Sharon move quite that fast. I tried to get dressed at the same time and was trying my best to go along with her, but my attempts were shot down quickly, and I was told to stay put with my mother and brother. I remember sitting on my grandmother’s bed downstairs and a somber fact came through my head. I was never going to see my great grandma again. I thought back to the previous day, the last words I had said to her. She was sitting on her bed in one of her soft white sweaters and she had a tan sweater-vest on over it. She always got chilled so easily. Most everyone from the gathering had left and we were getting ready to leave. I had gone in to hug her and I remember feeling her soft silky hands. They were weathered from all her years of gardening. She was telling me how much she loved me, and I was telling her how much she mattered to me. I remember telling her that we would come and see her tomorrow, smiling and being my normally bubbly self. She had just smiled and held my hand and said to me, “We will see sweetie, love you and take care.”

Those had been the last words she had said to me. I remembered the weird feeling I had gotten as she said those words. They felt different and sounded so final. I hadn’t quite realized what it was until my Grandma Sharon had gotten that call. She was 93 years old and knew her time had come; she was ready to go on her terms. When my mom had gotten a call from her mom, Grandma Sharon, I already had known the news. I was just in the other room on the bed, I hadn’t even moved in what felt like hours. I had just sat there contemplating everything. I walked in as I heard her hang up and my mom just looked at me. She was so lost on what to say, I could see it in her eyes. How do you a tell a child that they were never going to see there Grandparent again? I just said, “She’s gone, isn’t she?” Mom immediately welled up and I went over and sat on the bed with her and just hugged her and we sat there crying for hours. My brother Jason had come downstairs and, in our grief, we managed to tell him what happened as well.

The funeral was a few days later on the 10th and it was the first one I had ever gone to. I was only allowed to go the viewing and not the burial itself; and looking back now I understand why. I was inconsolable at the viewing. I had sat in my mothers’ lap in an armchair of the funeral home sobbing for almost an hour. It took everything I had to walk up to the casket and see her. Looking back, I vaguely remember her dress. I believe it was her purple pleated one she usually would wear on special occasions, but I cannot be too sure. It was her face that I remember the most clearly. She looked as if she were sleeping. She had what looked like a soft smile. Peaceful and serene. I had wanted to hold her hand but didn’t know if that would be appropriate. Somewhere in my brain I think I was trying to tell myself that it wasn’t real. That she would wake up at any moment and tell me that it was time to go outside and tend to the goats and the garden.

But I knew that was not my current reality. I told my mom I needed to go outside and get some air. I remember pacing the front porch of the funeral home. Just lost in thought. I at one point was hoping it was a nightmare but then I would feel that sickening hollow feeling in my chest and remember that it felt all to real to just be a dream. We went home that night. I clutched one of the dolls my Grandma Ada had given me and cried myself to sleep that night. The next day I went outside and wanted to plant some flowers. Grandma’s obituary handout had come with a little heart shaped seed paper that you just had to place into the ground and water. I remember the day they first sprouted I just sat and cried, hoping that grandma would be proud of me for all the work I had put in to making them grow.

My Grandma Ada is one of few people in my life I have loved more than anyone (sorry not sorry to my husband and my mother). She has a special place in my heart that has never to this day been replaced. She was and still is to this day the most inspirational person in my life. It is because of her I wanted to learn to cook and make my own food. It is because of her I wanted to learn to sew and make clothes. It is because of her I want to garden and grow my own food. It is because of her I want to homestead and raise my children in the same warm and loving atmosphere I grew up in. Everything I am and everything that I wish to become I owe to this woman.

I decided to write this because I feel I have never been able to say out loud what this woman meant and still means to me. I was too young at the time to express it as well as I can now. But now, even as a grown adult in my mid-20’s, I am sitting here with tears rolling down my cheeks and snot flowing freely. Every time I go and visit her grave the tears roll fresh and never seem to dry. After 14 years I still feel that pain and loss as if not a single day has passed. If anything, the pain seems to grow deeper. There are so many events I wish she had gotten to see. My first poem publication, my graduation, my wedding, and eventually my children. I know it is a selfish wish that I could have gotten to keep her, but it is a selfish desire I do not think will ever go away entirely.

Grandma Ada, you are the best woman I have ever known. I love you more than anyone I have ever loved. I remember all the times I helped you in the kitchen. The first time I ever made my own cinnamon rolls and I know for a fact they were hard as rocks, but you smiled and told me they were delicious. The time I first used the microwave without telling you and almost gave you a heart attack when you thought I would burn myself.

I remember all the times we were in the garden together. I remember when I picked your Grape hyacinth flowers you grew because they looked like my favorite fruit and I know you could’ve rung my neck but you smiled and thanked me for the gift but softly told me to let them grow more and that they would be even more beautiful. I remember you scolding me for eating the cherry tomatoes out of the basket I was carrying behind you in the garden to the point that half of your yield was gone, the stomach ache I got afterwards was punishment enough I assure you. I remember taking care of the goats, Charlie Brown and Elvis Highpockets, and feeding them honeysuckle and avoiding their butting heads.

I remember your white sweater with a teddy bear on it with an old rotary box phone that said “Need a hug? Call 1-800-Grandma.” I remember your talking Taco Bell stuffed Chihuahua that would say funny jokes and how darling you thought it was. I remember how you always wore a hairnet with your soft silvery hair always tucked so neatly inside. I remember you would make your own crushed ice by wrapping the ice in a washcloth and beating it with an old silver spoon till it was just how you liked it. I remember watching Jeopardy, Wheel of Fortune and Family Feud while in your blue recliner and us trying to get all the questions right.

There are so many wonderful memories that I carry with me. Her soft voice. How she could correct you with a single look and not even have to raise her voice. Her soft gentle hands that could cook, garden, fix boo-boos and do just about anything it seemed. I remember your gentle but encompassing hugs and your overall compassion for every living thing. Your love of nature and the outdoors.

You loved us all so much Grandma and I can only hope that I grow up to be the type of person you could be proud of. That I can grow up to be even half of the woman that you were. This is to you Grandma Ada. May you be at peace wherever you are and may this ode to you find you well. I love you and I don’t think I will ever stop.