Granny Eights, As Some Would Call Her

My heart breaks a little more each time I walk through the doors of room 307 at Monroe City Manor. It’s not because my Granny is suffering. She’s as happy as a person could ever be. It’s because the person that sits in that burgundy recliner is not the Grandmother I grew up with.
My Granny Yates was a brilliant woman. Let me start from the beginning. My grandparents were married at a very young age. My grandfather was a handsome sailor (I don’t blame my granny one bit for wanting to marry him!) and he was away at war for the first part of their relationship.

My grandmother was told in the beginning that she would never have kids. After having 2 miscarriages, 11 kids, and one child lost shortly after birth….. my grandmother proved everyone wrong. They were devout Catholics, which is probably why my love for the beauty of the Catholic church is so amazingly strong. They instilled it so deeply into my mother’s heart and she has so willingly passed it onto me as well. (Along with my father – who is a Deacon who has taught me more than I ever thought I would know about the Church.) My grandfather died when I was only 9, but I will never forget his love for the Blessed Mother, Jesus Christ, the Blessed Sacrament and everything else he taught me about my Catholic faith. He truly was a wonderful man and I think about him every single day. (St. George, Pray for us!)
My Granny Yates was an author and columnist for many years. She wrote 5 or 6 books that I know of, and wrote for multiple newspapers about the random musings of life. She has always been somewhat of a forgetful woman, but this past year her mind has slowly started slipping away.
In June, her children decided it was time to put her in a nursing home because it wasn’t safe for her to be on her own anymore. I moved to Kansas City a couple of weeks later. Of course it was hard – new school, new people, new city, completely new journey ahead of me. But even more than that, I was so unsure of what would happen next with my granny. I love going home for many reasons, but I love being able to and see her every day while I’m back in Monroe.
Since I’m not able to go home as often as I would like I sometimes write her letters. She gets so excited about snail mail. It makes me smile just picturing her opening up the letter! This past November, on my 23rd birthday, I received an envelope in the mail from none other than my dear old Granny Yates. I was so excited! I thought to myself… there is no way she remembered my birthday! Well, I was right… She did not have any idea it was my birthday. But I know that it was meant to be for me to receive that letter on my birthday, and it made my day complete.
I recently came back to Kansas City after a 5 week Christmas vacation. I was able to see my Grandmother as often as I pleased and I loved every second of it, although it was very hard for me to see just how quickly her memory is fading. While she doesn’t always remember a lot of people, she has yet to forget who I am and I can hold onto that for now. I don’t know when I will see her again. I don’t know if she will know who I am. I do know that I have been blessed to have a Grandmother who loved me with everything she had, and that I have had twenty-three years to share with her.
Did I mention I was named Cecelia after her?! Thanks, Mom & Pops.