Unforgettable
Friday, August 21, 2009 Mary Jane Hautem, my grandmother, passed away on August 20, 2009, at approximately 2:00 p.m. She would have been 92 on August 28th.
Mamaw's physical and cognitive deterioration were evident in July compared to when I saw her in September 2008 and January 2009. I started to write about the time we spent with her in July when I returned to Utah, but never posted. Here's a portion:
Chrisand I took the boys to visit her one day. She was sitting at the kitchen table when we arrived. Her back was towards us and when I walked around to look at her face, her eyes were closed. She had a slight smile on her face. I woke her and said, It's me again. Chrisy. I brought Chris-Boy and the boys with me. I looked in her eyes, begging her to know me. She smiled, but I could tell she was confused and didn't recognize me. She was in a different place in her mind, and I wasn't part of her experience. But her departure was brief.
After a few moments she spoke slowly, still smiling and said, "Well sure it's you, Chrisy. And look at these boys. Let's go back to my house." [She meant her room.]
We walked her to her room in the Group Home. Oldest Boy played his saxophone for her, Middle Boy played his guitar, and Toddler Child writhed around on the floor, growling and whining that he wanted to go home. Chris and I tried to talk with Mamaw, but she can't hear well. A true conversation was difficult, but we still managed to connect with her. I know that she enjoyed watching the boys, even writhing, growling, rude Toddler Child. I think she could have watched them for hours. She stared shamelessly at each child, cocking her head, taking in every detail. At one point she said, "I just love watching their expressions. Don't you, Chrisy?"
After our visit I asked Oldest Boy if it made him sad to see the effects of age on Mamaw. He said, No, not really. I liked it that she was so cheerful. That made me happy.
A little over four weeks ago, Mamaw was found on the floor in her room by one of the Group Home caregivers. She had fallen, broken her femur and suffered a brain bleed. After consulting with doctors at the hospital, and being informed that she would not survive surgeries to repair either injury, Dad and his brother made the difficult decision to move Mamaw to a hospice facility. The length of her stay at hospice was longer than anyone expected. It was an unfortunate and difficult process; the dying. News of her death came as a relief.
Mamaw was a kindred spirit to me. With no disrespect intended to the important and devoted people in my life, I've never felt more loved by anyone than by Mamaw. She loved me, accepted me, forgave me, was honest with me, trusted me, apologized to me, and understood me. I began missing and grieving her some time ago, and I'll miss her thirty years from now.
There was a time when Mamaw and Papaw lived in Tucson, Arizona, and Chris and I lived in Phoenix. Chris and I spent many weekends in Tucson with them before we had kids. We even took a week-long trip to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, when Mamaw and Papaw were 80. We enjoyed spending time together and were compatible travel mates.
[Note: Papaw died in June 2007.]
I have vivid memories of swimming with Mamaw in her backyard pool while a portable cassette player played Natalie Cole's Unforgettable: With Love. We called it our "synchronized swimming" as we side-stroked, back-stroked, and gracefully moved through the water to the music. Mamaw sang. Papaw sat in the shade and tapped his foot as he lifeguarded. He didn't like Mamaw swimming alone.
I know the lyrics to "Unforgettable" were referring to a romantic relationship, but I believe Mamaw sang them to me when we swam, and I can honestly sing them to her.
Unforgettable, that's what you are
Unforgettable though near or far
Like a song of love that clings to me
How the thought of you does things to me
Never before has someone been moreUnforgettable in every way
And forever more, that's how you'll stay
That's why, darling, its incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am unforgettable tooUnforgettable in every way
And forever more, that's how you'll stay
That's why, darling, its incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am unforgettable too
-Irving Gordon
A few memories of Mamaw, including the last time I saw her. [The last 50 seconds or so of the video.]
Mamaw - Unforgettable from Chris Ross on Vimeo.
Reader Comments (36)
HUGS!
I am so sorry for your loss. You've given her such a loving and beautiful tribute here at your special place. I'm thinking of you.
Love, Cheri
My love to you at this saddest of times - and the biggest hug I am capable of giving
I am so sorry for this loss, for you and your family. I'll lift you all up in whatever way I can . . .
I'm praying for your family.
I left a reply to your recent comment on my blog earlier today, at which time I still had not learned of the death of your Mamaw. I mentioned her in that comment as I know she was so dear to you. And you to her.
I'm sure she's happy now and like Jennifer says, smiling down on you right now.
May you find peace in the beautiful memories and the love you have left to share with the ones who dearly love you too.
I'm thinking of you.
I hope she forgives me.
There are no words, BB. I am so sorry for your loss.
*Tear
I lost my 'gramma' in 2007. She too was a true kindred spirit in my life and meant more to me than other single person - other than my dear mother (who i lost just 3 months prior to gramma). That was a tough year.
Thanks for sharing with us in your time of grief.
I feel so sorry for people that had to grow up without grandparents. I don't know how I would have become the person I am without them.
Wishing you big hugs and lots of love. xoxo