You had a good run Grandma


Mom and her friend Rose, about 1944

My 85-year-old mother died this week. She had a long life, most of it healthy despite a robust smoking  habit, some of it good, some not, but overall a life that was varied and interesting.  She was born of immigrant parents and grew up in a working class neighborhood of mostly Polish, Slovenian and others of eastern European descent. Her father worked in a factory, her mother stayed home raising kids, making chicken soup with homemade noodles, and poticca (poppy-seed bread) on special occasions, hanging her laundry on the line to dry while chatting over the fence to neighbors, and shopping at a neighborhood market, where you handed your list to the clerk behind the counter and they filled your order for you. My mother said they were “lucky” during the depression, because her father had a part-time job as a night watchman in a factory, while many other dads had nothing. Her growing up years are portrayed in pictures of her with her friends, sledding down a neighborhood hill, standing sweetly next to boyfriends, almost all dressed in army uniforms, and arm in arm with  girlfriends, walking  down the streets of Chicago or posing with the stone lions in front of the Art Institute. She quit high school in 11th grade to help support her family and worked in a factory making Karo syrup.  Maybe that’s why her hearing became so bad in later years, as there was no OSHA to protect workers then. Later, as an adult, she proudly completed her GED, not because she had to, but because she felt incomplete without that diploma, even though she grew up in a time when many people, especially women, did not complete school past the eight grade.

Mom and her daughters. That's me on the left.

She left her family in Chicago to move with her new husband to a farm in Michigan. Although she grew up a city girl, she traded it all for love, to pick pickles,  gather eggs, and sell tomato seedlings from our little greenhouse. She raised three children without the benefit of disposable diapers, ready-made formula or an automatic clothes washer.  She canned jam, hung clothes outside to dry and spent an entire day each week ironing. Her only phone was a black desk model on a party line. Her TV received  two channels. She styled her hair with pin curls and gave her daughters hideous home perms.

 She was the only mom who taught her daughters how to play hopscotch AND poker. She carried cigarettes in her purse next to pictures of her grandchildren. She could curse like a sailor and sweet-talk the priest, all on the very same day.  One of her fondest memories was the day her grandchildren took her to…the casino.

People describe her as sometimes funny, sometimes fun, but always feisty.  She was not afraid to speak her mind. I always heard about it if she didn’t like my clothes or hair or what I was doing, and not just as a teenager, but as an adult too. Her motto was “don’t go to any trouble,” yet she made sure you went to all kinds of trouble when she wanted you to.  She was too impatient to ever wait in a line, but patient enough to comfort us through our childhood illnesses and boyfriend dramas. She deferred decision-making to her husband, but later as a widow, gained confidence to hire a roofer and plumber, get her car serviced  and learn how to drive through the car wash.

She was determined to stay in her own home until she died and made sure we all felt miserable and abused

Mom at her 85th birthday party.

 when we “made her” move to our local hospice. But in the short time she was there, she was blessed and touched and basked under the loving care of the folks there, who were able to see past her sometime cantankerous exterior to the needs  of a dying woman.

As we all whispered our goodbyes to her this Christmas day night, I think my youngest son said it best. He leaned into her ear and said “You had a good run Grandma, you had a good run.”

Advertisements

26 thoughts on “You had a good run Grandma

  1. Thanks for sharing this. The pictures and your words capture the essence of a life well lived, enjoyed, and blessed. Your mother sounds like a woman I could relate to and she taught you a lot about the good and bad of life through those perms!

    I am sure you are reflecting on many memories beyond your words captured here. Take care of yourself huffygirl. My thoughts are with you.

  2. This is a great tribute to your Mom and it stikes a particularly stong chord with me.

    I lost my Mom last March at 85 after a long battle with Parkinson’s which for the most part, she totally ignored as she continued to do what she did best … do things to help other people she considered “less fortunate” than herself.

    When she lapsed into a coma and the doctor told us to call in Hospice because she was what he termed “actively dying”, I have to say that I didn’t really know what he meant. I’ve since learned that Hospice is one of the most wonderful compassionate orgainzations in the world. I am in awe of what they do to comfort the dying and the loved ones who must cope with the loss.

    — Judson

    • Judson, thanks for sharing about your mom. Sounds like she was a super person. I’m sorry for your loss. For me writing about my mom was a great way to honor her and therapeutic for me. Thanks for stopping by.

  3. I didn’t realize you posted this on your blog, too. It was a great eulogy at the funeral. Very well-said, and I liked hearing about some of the things from her childhood. We’ll miss Grandma!

    • Thanks Judy. I actually initally wrote it for the blog instead of for reading, because I didn’t think I’d be able to read it; then came up with the idea that someone could read it for me.

  4. Pingback: A look back: my first year of blogging | Huffygirl's Blog

  5. Pingback: Putting my family in a box | Huffygirl's Blog

  6. Pingback: Remembering Daddy | Huffygirl's Blog

  7. Pingback: Decoration Day | Huffygirl's Blog

  8. Pingback: You had a good run Grandma « Reader's Choice

  9. Pingback: To Gabriele | Huffygirl's Blog

Don't leave yet. Tell me what's on your mind.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s