Yesterday was the day. Yesterday was the first time my
Granny couldn’t remember my name as I walked into her room at MCM to visit
her.
Was I prepared for it?
I don’t think anything in the world could prepare me for it. Deep down I think I knew it would be the
day, because I hadn’t seen her since Thanksgiving. I know she had kind of
rough week and was confused a little more than normal. There is just one thing – she is HAPPY, and
that is simply enough to remind myself that it isn’t important that she
remembers my name.
My Mom and her siblings recently cleaned out Granny’s house
on Southwest Border Street. I sit here and a hundred different images of
my Grandmother and Grandpa flash through my mind. While the house is still in the family, it is
no longer “theirs” and what I have left to hold onto are the wonderful memories
of the most loving grandparents I could ever dream of having. I consider myself one of the lucky ones,
growing up in the same small town as my grandparents and seeing them every day
if that is what I wanted.
Mom brought home a box of books (mostly about saints,
Catholic teachings, apparitions of Mary, etc.) from Granny’s collection for me
to have. My Granny was an author and
columnist by profession, and she loved to read other people’s writings as
well. I think she passed on her love for
books to my mother, who then passed it onto me.
I can’t think of anything else I’d rather have, than a collection of
books to help me grow and learn more about my Catholic faith. My Granny already gave me the Catechism of
the Catholic Church that used to belong to her and Grandpa – and now I have
many more wonderful titles to add to my shelves. As I’m sifting through an old, worn out Bible
I understand in a greater way how much Granny longs to spend eternity with all
of her descendents. She wrote many
prayers, whether they were on loose pieces of papers or in the margins of her
books probably as they came to mind.
They are simple, yet beautiful and I am reminded once again that He
knows the desires of my heart – and my prayers don’t have to be extravagant. He just longs to know me.
It is comforting to me to know that even as my Granny loses
her memory, she is a daily reminder of what it means to live life as a Catholic
in a world where we are constantly receiving criticism and fighting our own
battles to become closer to Him. Even
more comforting, is knowing that she will live on through the stories she has
written in her books, through her children, grandchildren and
great-grandchildren.
Granny Yates, we are extremely lucky to still have you
around – 87 years young :)
