Gummie

Now, many of you (if there is anyone left reading this blog, at all...) have heard me write about Gummie. She is my mom's mom. And two weeks ago yesterday she had a bi-lateral stroke and congestive heart failure. Last Sunday I went to visit her in California. On Saturday, while our family was hunting Easter Eggs in eight inches of fresh wet snow, she passed away. Strangely enough, at this time, I seem to have a bunch of photoesque memories of her even though I don't know how many memories I hold onto of my Mom. This saddens me. I know my blog has been bleak lately, but that is the way my life is going right now. It seems that all of these things are happening.

Memories:

I see Gummie. I am maybe four or five. She is teaching me about all of the parts of the body that need to be washed while I am in the bathtub. Specifically, and seemingly most importantly, behind the ears.

I see Gummie. She and Mom are waiting for me to take photos with other prom-goers. Then we drive to dinner. She says how beautiful my dress is.

I see Gummie. She is doing this dance we call the camel dance. Moving alternately, heel up heel down. Hands tucked in front like a bunny holding an Easter Basket. Comical.

I see Gummie and Guppy. They were dancers. I would watch and watch as they moved so gracefully around the dance floor. Those nights were torturous to a teenaged girl who wanted nothing to do with Country music.

I see Gummie. She is getting ready to go out. I can see all of her beautiful perfume bottles sitting on her dresser. I see her planning out her outfit and her jewelry.

I see Gummie. She is adamant that I tell her something, although she refuses to tell me what. Over a month later, I will find out that the psychic we went to see together has told her that I am pregnant (true) or will be pregnant in two weeks or less. She was adamant that I must have known, but I had no idea.

I see Gummie. She is playing bingo. She is waiting for her number to be called. She has all her lucky gadgets surrounding her. She says the appropriate things when certain numbers are called.

I see Gummie. She is chewing ice. I, personally, believe that this is one of the most annoying habits in the world. It is disruptive and impolite. Strangely enough, Gummie was a chronic ice chewer even though she was one of the most proper women I know.

I see Gummie. She has her head near my Mom's. Mom is sick. Gummie has tears in her eyes and is terribly sad. I see pain and hurt. I see love.

I see Guppy. I see Guppy talking tenderly to his wife of over fifty years. She is unresponsive and has been for days. The future is unsure but undeniable. He is tender. His love is evident.

There are so many more memories that I think of in this time of sadness.

I will not bore you with the details of my trip or any more of my sadness, but I will leave you with this. This is the photo that I took as I was leaving the hospital as I said Good Bye to Gummie for the last time before she passed. Strangely enough, the moon plays an important part in the photo if you look closely. It is as though there are three dimensions to life and this picture is able to depict those dimensions.