God, Grandma, and The Mickey Mouse Lunch Box: Part II
Nearly 20 years ago, I wrote an essay about my Grandma Brown called "God, Grandma, and The Mickey Mouse Lunch Box." She was a church secretary, and our house was right next to the church she worked at. I would wait impatiently for my mom to pack me a lunch, grab my Mickey Mouse lunchbox, and head over to the church every morning to hang out with Grandma. She would always bring her lunch too, and we'd eat together, sitting out on the church steps, talking. My Grandma was quite the storyteller, and sometimes you had to be careful, because she would spin a few yarns along with the true stories . . .it was always hard to distinguish, though, because she always sucked me right in! There was one true story she told me that always stuck with me--the story of Jesus. She told me all about His life, His ministry, and His sacrifice. My Grandma was the truest example of Christ on this earth I have ever known, and I'll always be grateful for her witness to me. She was the kindest, sweetest, gentlest woman, and she showed me someone I would like to become.
Today is a bittersweet Father's Day. My Grandma Brown, my dad's mom, passed away at 8:15 this morning. It's bitter for all the obvious reasons . . .we are saying goodbye to someone we loved with all our hearts, and it's particularly hard on this holiday for my father and his brothers. It's sweet because, as some of you know, she had Alzheimer's Disease. For years now, she has been very depressed, confused, and many times, aggressive and mean. This is not my Grandma, it's the disease which has taken hold of her mind and left her without her memories. It had gotten so bad that last Monday, when my mom and dad went to visit her, she had no idea who they were (which was usual) . . .and when my dad went to kiss her goodbye, she actually got scared. To her, there was a rather large, strange man trying to kiss her, and she didn't understand why! Alzheimer's took her a long time ago, and at last, she has peace.
She also has a husband, a brother, several relatives, and my two children, her great-grandsons waiting for her. She never knew my boys in life, but will recognize them in Heaven, call them by name, and they will come running over to her. I know they will spend many happy hours together, and she will tell them some stories about their mom when she was little. Maybe she'll even tell them about the Mickey Mouse lunch box, and all those hours we shared, eating peanut butter sandwiches and canned peaches on the steps of the church. I'd like to think that she will.
I really miss my Grandma. I've missed her for a long time. She didn't get to be part of my marriage, or either of my son's births. She was too confused and disoriented to remember her own children, let alone understand the addition of new family members. I want her to know peace and happiness, after a very long battle on this earth. I want her to go back to being the woman she really is, the woman I looked up to and wanted to be like. I am sad for me, but I'm happy for her, because finally, she can rest.
Elvis Costello wrote a song for his grandmother, who also suffered from Alzheimer's. The song has always been one of my favorites, and grew to take on new meaning after my Grandma became ill. I listen to it often and think of her, and so today I am posting the lyrics in memory of her.
I love you so much, Grandma Helen. Take care of Sawyer and Brian for me, ok? Tell them how much I love them, and I'll see you all soon.
Veronica
Is it all in that pretty little head of yours?
What goes on in that place in the dark?
Well I used to know a girl and I could have sworn
that her name was Veronica
Well she used to have a carefree mind of her own
and a delicate look in her eye
These days I'm afraid she's not even sure if her
name is Veronica
Do you suppose that waiting, hands on eyes,
Veronica has gone to hide?
and all the time she laughs at those who shout
her name and steal her clothes.
Veronica, Veronica, Veronica
Did the days drag by? Did the favours wane?
Did he roam down the town all the while?
As you wake from your dream, with a wolf at
the door, reaching out for Veronica
Well it was all of sixty-five years ago
When the world was the street where she lived
And a young man sailed on a ship in the sea
With a picture of Veronica
On the "Empress of India"
And as she closed her eyes upon the world and
picked apart a plate of last week's news
She spoke his name out loud again
Do you suppose that waiting, hands on eyes,
Veronica has gone to hide?
and all the time she laughs at those who shout
her name and steal her clothes.
Veronica, Veronica, Veronica
Veronica sits in her favorite chair
As they come with a regular pill
And they call her a name that they never get right
While telling her that she must sit still
But she always had a carefree mind of her own
with a devilish look in her eye
saying you can call me anything you like
but my name is Veronica
Do you suppose that waiting, hands on eyes,
Veronica has gone to hide?
and all the time she laughs at those who shout
her name and steal her clothes.
Veronica, Veronica, Veronica
Nearly 20 years ago, I wrote an essay about my Grandma Brown called "God, Grandma, and The Mickey Mouse Lunch Box." She was a church secretary, and our house was right next to the church she worked at. I would wait impatiently for my mom to pack me a lunch, grab my Mickey Mouse lunchbox, and head over to the church every morning to hang out with Grandma. She would always bring her lunch too, and we'd eat together, sitting out on the church steps, talking. My Grandma was quite the storyteller, and sometimes you had to be careful, because she would spin a few yarns along with the true stories . . .it was always hard to distinguish, though, because she always sucked me right in! There was one true story she told me that always stuck with me--the story of Jesus. She told me all about His life, His ministry, and His sacrifice. My Grandma was the truest example of Christ on this earth I have ever known, and I'll always be grateful for her witness to me. She was the kindest, sweetest, gentlest woman, and she showed me someone I would like to become.
Today is a bittersweet Father's Day. My Grandma Brown, my dad's mom, passed away at 8:15 this morning. It's bitter for all the obvious reasons . . .we are saying goodbye to someone we loved with all our hearts, and it's particularly hard on this holiday for my father and his brothers. It's sweet because, as some of you know, she had Alzheimer's Disease. For years now, she has been very depressed, confused, and many times, aggressive and mean. This is not my Grandma, it's the disease which has taken hold of her mind and left her without her memories. It had gotten so bad that last Monday, when my mom and dad went to visit her, she had no idea who they were (which was usual) . . .and when my dad went to kiss her goodbye, she actually got scared. To her, there was a rather large, strange man trying to kiss her, and she didn't understand why! Alzheimer's took her a long time ago, and at last, she has peace.
She also has a husband, a brother, several relatives, and my two children, her great-grandsons waiting for her. She never knew my boys in life, but will recognize them in Heaven, call them by name, and they will come running over to her. I know they will spend many happy hours together, and she will tell them some stories about their mom when she was little. Maybe she'll even tell them about the Mickey Mouse lunch box, and all those hours we shared, eating peanut butter sandwiches and canned peaches on the steps of the church. I'd like to think that she will.
I really miss my Grandma. I've missed her for a long time. She didn't get to be part of my marriage, or either of my son's births. She was too confused and disoriented to remember her own children, let alone understand the addition of new family members. I want her to know peace and happiness, after a very long battle on this earth. I want her to go back to being the woman she really is, the woman I looked up to and wanted to be like. I am sad for me, but I'm happy for her, because finally, she can rest.
Elvis Costello wrote a song for his grandmother, who also suffered from Alzheimer's. The song has always been one of my favorites, and grew to take on new meaning after my Grandma became ill. I listen to it often and think of her, and so today I am posting the lyrics in memory of her.
I love you so much, Grandma Helen. Take care of Sawyer and Brian for me, ok? Tell them how much I love them, and I'll see you all soon.
Veronica
Is it all in that pretty little head of yours?
What goes on in that place in the dark?
Well I used to know a girl and I could have sworn
that her name was Veronica
Well she used to have a carefree mind of her own
and a delicate look in her eye
These days I'm afraid she's not even sure if her
name is Veronica
Do you suppose that waiting, hands on eyes,
Veronica has gone to hide?
and all the time she laughs at those who shout
her name and steal her clothes.
Veronica, Veronica, Veronica
Did the days drag by? Did the favours wane?
Did he roam down the town all the while?
As you wake from your dream, with a wolf at
the door, reaching out for Veronica
Well it was all of sixty-five years ago
When the world was the street where she lived
And a young man sailed on a ship in the sea
With a picture of Veronica
On the "Empress of India"
And as she closed her eyes upon the world and
picked apart a plate of last week's news
She spoke his name out loud again
Do you suppose that waiting, hands on eyes,
Veronica has gone to hide?
and all the time she laughs at those who shout
her name and steal her clothes.
Veronica, Veronica, Veronica
Veronica sits in her favorite chair
As they come with a regular pill
And they call her a name that they never get right
While telling her that she must sit still
But she always had a carefree mind of her own
with a devilish look in her eye
saying you can call me anything you like
but my name is Veronica
Do you suppose that waiting, hands on eyes,
Veronica has gone to hide?
and all the time she laughs at those who shout
her name and steal her clothes.
Veronica, Veronica, Veronica
1 comment:
Amy... I'm so sorry to hear about your Grandma Brown. This was beautiful -- full of longing and hope. I remember you talking about how much she missed your grandfather. I'm thankful she is Home, too. I'll be praying for you as you funeral this week...
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