Old Grandma

Every since I was a little kid, I had three grandmas. There was grandma Johnson, grandma Wendleton, and then there was "old" grandma. That would be my great-grandmother (my mom's mom's mother). Her name was Merle Schneider. The day I was born, in the very same hospital Old grandma had a very important heart opperation. I think this is can be attributed to her longevity. When all the pipes are clear, the machine will work longer and better. She was called Old grandma, because she was...well freakin' old. She was born in 1910, in a sod house.

The only other thing I know about her is that she took very good care of my mother growing up (letting her stay over a lot). She also went on many vacations with my mom and her brother, taking them all over. When my parents were first married, they lived in an apartment downtown (in what is now a shithole) in a building Old grandma owned.

But I never really met that person. For me, Old grandma was...well...an old person. She started losing herself during the early part of my life. She didn't really get "bad" until 17 or 18 years ago, but I don't really ever feel like I knew her. She lived with my great-uncle David until about 16 years ago when she became too much of a handful. Then she was placed into a nursing home at Truman Medical Center in Lakewood (this is what my dad calls a "poor person's hospital," which it is). Amber got her first job there and saw her on a fairly regular basis (more than I did). I was too freaked out by the place. It stank and was overall a very depressing place to visit.

Her daughter (my grandma Johnson) died in 2001. It was sad, because by that point I don't think she even remembered having a daughter. I was sitting in my dorm with Leah today (we had just got back from the gym) when the phone rang. It was my Dad, we chatted a bit about school, and the bad weather they've been having in K.C. Then my Dad told me that Old grandma died this morning. I honestly wasn't that sad. In fact, I was happy for her. Despite what anyone else thinks, I think losing one's mind and then being placed in an institution filled with strangers is a fate worse than death. We can rationalize it all we want (there really was no way to care for her...she had become a burden none of us could handle) but the fact is she is better off gone than here. At 97, she lived a life that was longer and richer than I will probably have (being male and stressed out I will probably expire sooner than Old grandma's MUCH later). Whether or not there is a heaven and hell...she is free. She's free from suffering, pain, and the oblivion that her life had become--and I am happy (and relieved) for her.

This is the weirdest death I've ever experienced, because to me she's sorta been dead a while. Every since I was little I've expected her to die...but like the Energizer bunny she kept going, and going, and going...

Though I never really got a chance to know her, in death I've gotten a glimpse into who she used to be. Apparently, in the late '70s she paid for her funeral (and all the arrangements). God bless her little heart, she even paid for cars to come to our house and pick us up and take us to the funeral. How very thoughtful (and considerate) is that? As dumb as it sounds, I think the most gracious thing a person can do is take care of all that stuff. I want that for my loved ones. I don't want them to have to worry about a thing. This is a stressful time for everyone, the last thing anyone wants to do is talk money...coordinate family plans AND the pageantry that is a funeral. I'm finding out how hard it is to plan big events (wedding anyone?) I can't imagine planning something so important while in the throes of grief.

I'm going to be going back home with weekend (weather permitting) for the visitation and internment ceremony.

Merle Schneider 1910-2007