Grandma Irma
Last Friday at 6:40 p.m., our family got the call. "Grandma Irma" (as she was known not only by us but by all our friends as well) had passed away after a long battle with cancer and a shorter battle with the pneumonia that eventually weakened her to the point of death. It was not unexpected, although the end seemed to come more quickly than we had anticipated. It was a true blessing that we were all able to say our goodbyes, thank-yous, and final words just before she slipped into a state of unresponsiveness.
Although we had always known that Grandma Irma was a one-of-a-kind personality, it is only over the past couple of days that we have come to know how many lives she actually touched. We received cards and wonderful notes from her dental hygenist, her financial planner, children of her former patients, and most likely people she had met on the bus. (Not only did she make friends with people she met on the bus, but she likely had their address so she was poised to send them $10 on their birthdays by the end of the ride.) Support came pouring in from more corners of our world than we had ever imagined. I would be hard-pressed to adequately express my gratitude to everyone who has somehow impacted me over the past few days.
Grandma and I certainly never had a perfect relationship. In fact, as those of you know me fairly well would know, there were many times that she drove me absolutely crazy! Of course, it is those very things that irked me the most that will probably lead to my fondest memories of her. For instance, there were certain buzz words that simply could not be said in her presence without launching her into one of her famous stories, told hundreds of times over with the exact same verbiage. We couldn't mention a bad hair day without the admonition that "We should be grateful we have hair!" (And yes, Grandma, I'm also grateful that I have a butt...) She interrupted nearly every story we tried to tell with one of her own, usually involving someone who had died recently or would die soon. She needled me incessantly for my habit of being late and constantly reminded me that she used to get to her shift at work at least an hour early, if not more. Somehow none of these quirks seem quite so maddening now.
Despite her sometimes trying habits, she was incredibly devoted to my sister and I, her only grandchildren. She wrote to both of us every single day of our college careers! I have amassed nearly a thousand hand-written letters as well as just as many cartoons and cutouts from the Metro Lutheran, complete with explanations, just in case I didn't get the joke. Although she didn't drive, she was determined to get to every single one of our musical performances "by hook or crook." (This nearly always meant my dad had to pick her up.) She bragged about us to anyone who would listen, as I was made well aware of at her memorial service. She certainly was proud of us.
She also showed an incredible devotion to God, her church, and to service of others as well. She never ended a conversation without telling me that she was praying for me. She apparently logged over 4,000 hours of volunteer work at Ebenezer, the care center that was her heart and soul. I like to think that my passion for working with the elderly and long-term care came from her. She loved to tell me that she had been doing "quote, music therapy for years.'' "No you haven't!!!" I wanted to yell. "I have been in school for 6 years and I still can't call myself a music therapist!" Instead, I just smiled, and told her that I was sure her residents appreciated her music. I'm glad that I did.
I could probably fill several books with my "Grandma Irma stories" but I know that they will probably come up often in conversation as I remember her life. She had an undeniably huge impact on my world that I'm sure I will become even more clear to me as I mourn her loss. Although my constant references to song lyrics may be tiresome, I can not sum it up any better than with a quote from the song "For Good" from the musical "Wicked"-
So much of me is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me like a handprint on my heart.
Although we had always known that Grandma Irma was a one-of-a-kind personality, it is only over the past couple of days that we have come to know how many lives she actually touched. We received cards and wonderful notes from her dental hygenist, her financial planner, children of her former patients, and most likely people she had met on the bus. (Not only did she make friends with people she met on the bus, but she likely had their address so she was poised to send them $10 on their birthdays by the end of the ride.) Support came pouring in from more corners of our world than we had ever imagined. I would be hard-pressed to adequately express my gratitude to everyone who has somehow impacted me over the past few days.
Grandma and I certainly never had a perfect relationship. In fact, as those of you know me fairly well would know, there were many times that she drove me absolutely crazy! Of course, it is those very things that irked me the most that will probably lead to my fondest memories of her. For instance, there were certain buzz words that simply could not be said in her presence without launching her into one of her famous stories, told hundreds of times over with the exact same verbiage. We couldn't mention a bad hair day without the admonition that "We should be grateful we have hair!" (And yes, Grandma, I'm also grateful that I have a butt...) She interrupted nearly every story we tried to tell with one of her own, usually involving someone who had died recently or would die soon. She needled me incessantly for my habit of being late and constantly reminded me that she used to get to her shift at work at least an hour early, if not more. Somehow none of these quirks seem quite so maddening now.
Despite her sometimes trying habits, she was incredibly devoted to my sister and I, her only grandchildren. She wrote to both of us every single day of our college careers! I have amassed nearly a thousand hand-written letters as well as just as many cartoons and cutouts from the Metro Lutheran, complete with explanations, just in case I didn't get the joke. Although she didn't drive, she was determined to get to every single one of our musical performances "by hook or crook." (This nearly always meant my dad had to pick her up.) She bragged about us to anyone who would listen, as I was made well aware of at her memorial service. She certainly was proud of us.
She also showed an incredible devotion to God, her church, and to service of others as well. She never ended a conversation without telling me that she was praying for me. She apparently logged over 4,000 hours of volunteer work at Ebenezer, the care center that was her heart and soul. I like to think that my passion for working with the elderly and long-term care came from her. She loved to tell me that she had been doing "quote, music therapy for years.'' "No you haven't!!!" I wanted to yell. "I have been in school for 6 years and I still can't call myself a music therapist!" Instead, I just smiled, and told her that I was sure her residents appreciated her music. I'm glad that I did.
I could probably fill several books with my "Grandma Irma stories" but I know that they will probably come up often in conversation as I remember her life. She had an undeniably huge impact on my world that I'm sure I will become even more clear to me as I mourn her loss. Although my constant references to song lyrics may be tiresome, I can not sum it up any better than with a quote from the song "For Good" from the musical "Wicked"-
So much of me is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me like a handprint on my heart.
posted by Erinn @ 7:44 PM
1 Comments:
At 8:39 PM,
Anonymous said…
Erinn,
My deepest sympathies on your lost. My thought and prayers are with your family during this difficult time. I have never met Grandma Irma and by your blog and the stories from coffee, it sounds like I definately missed out on meeting one heck of a lady. I know how difficult it is to lose a grandparent, especially one so unique and special, so please let me know if there is anything I can do....I can be an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on if you need it.
Becca
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