Last night was one of those nights that I couldn't talk without crying. I'm up visiting my mom and got to see my grandma for the first time in a few weeks, since I'd been sick with the flu for nearly two weeks. When I arrived at the nursing home bingo was going on in the dining room, so I went to my grandma's room to see if she might like to join in. To my surprise she said yes. So I wheeled her down and we grabbed a table and started to play. Ten minutes later my grandma glances over at my card and whispers," you have bingo!" I said, " I know, but I think it's better to let someone else win." She squinted her eyes at me and pursed her lips and I expected her to fight me on it, then her face softened and she just shrugged her shoulders and said okay. Two minutes later a tiny old lady at the next table chirped 'Bingo!' I looked over at my grandma and smiled and she smiled back.
After bingo was over I went to her room and got a pack of cards and we proceeded to play gin rummy for an hour. There were moments that I felt myself getting choked up and I had to swallow hard and push it down. My entire life my grandmother and I have played cards. Sitting there with her at the table reminded me of so many afternoons of my childhood, sitting at her kitchen table, a little bowl of oyster crackers and glasses of iced tea within reach.
I got back to my mom's house in time for dinner and explained in detail to her my visit. She understands like no one else the emotional roller coaster this entire journey with my grandmother has been. After getting the kids bathed and tucked in we sat downstairs and discussed plans for the holidays. And laughed. A lot. We went upstairs and I went into my room and noticed my grandma's jewelry box on the dresser. I set it on the bed and lifted the lid and knew immediately this was gonna be tough. It was like little pieces of her life were in this box. A garnet ring, a pin from the telephone company she worked at, a charm from Hawaii, her highschool graduation pin from 1942. My mom came in the room and sat down on the bed with me and we began to look at stuff together. And I had the deep, heart breaking cry I had been avoiding for so long but desperately needed.
Today I will drive back to Brooklyn and take her jewelry box with me. I know that most of what's in there will never be worn by me, but I feel it's my job to keep it all. The rosary beads, the plethora of ugly gold hoop earrings and even the Mass card from a friend that passed away in 1994. I will keep her memories for her, long after she has forgotten them all.
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