I know this is my earliest memory because grandma died when I was two. Before that, she was frail on a living room recliner. There were plastic prongs in her nose. There was a long tube. She sat attached. I do not remember being unbelievably small, but I was.
I think they told me to give her a hug. I think I cowered. They pushed against my pull-back. I was crying. Grandma was dying.
I was two.
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Thursday, March 01, 2007
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I remember my grandfather dying in a hospital when I was four, but only the memory of being in the hospital--no recollection of my grandfather at all. My sister, then seven, says she never realy liked Grandpa anyway. The only thing I remember about him was that we had to leave the living room when he was home so that the men of the family could lift him up to pee. I always thought peeing in a toilet kept in the living room was disgusting.
I'm free whenever you're free for some quality get-together time.
So spare, so sad. Yet you make it beautiful.
two is so unbelievably small, isn't it. and yet you were catching everything.
sparse yet perfect, friend.
I remember horrible waxy chocolate covered peanuts in a huge glass jar with a metal twisty lid, and her twisted, gnarled arm in a sling. And a funny smell.
She was my great grandma and I would love to have been able to know her as an adult.
Great writing, Binky. Glad I linked to you today at my site.
Who would think that such a short post would be so powerful. Great writing.
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