What a beautifully written tribute to your grandmother and a thoughtful post about how aging will affect you. We can change some odds by making good choices but some things we have little control over. My grandmother was blind and cranky. Very cranky. My dad was blind and cranky. Very very cranky. I am determined, if that's my fate, to have a seeing eye dog and use technology as much as possible. But who knows...
This love letter to your grandmother is so tender and beautifully written. Reading it conjured images of my own. I am named after my grandmother who was impoverished frail and asthmatic. She had a large family and little time for sentiments but made me feel safe and loved. Having recently married and been given the gift of two grandsons, I do my best to remember what I am modeling for them.
I too have made it my life's habit to study the elderly. I suppose we will never know what kind if health we will have, and how mobile we will be but from what I have observed, we rarely have the illness and death we feared. And aging and death ate a test of our metal.The ultimate test is how well we handle ourselves. And on that score, I admire your grandmother. Despite chronic pain she rallied to make your meals and you both shared something beautiful. I admire her for making sure she was strong enough to look after you and give you love.
This is such a loving and bittersweet story. Being in my late 60's myself certainly causes me to pause and reconsider who I am in this life stage-in relation to my perception of elderly from experiences with my mother and grandmothers . I can view their full lives through a different more sympathetic lens and recall how their hardscrabble histories shaped them . I felt adored by my grandmothers in such a unique way. Thank you for your beautiful recollection.
I loved all my grandmothers and the two great-grandmothers that lived long enough for me to spend time with them. You were a unique granddaughter; one your grandmother was aware of. Thank you for this endearing tribute.
Thank you for sharing your grandmother’s story. Reading your piece reminded me of both my grandmothers. On my dad side, she could barely walk due to severe arthritis in her knees. On my mother’s side, she had Alzheimer’s later on in life. We alternated weekends visits and there was always food. Feeling reminiscent. Thank you.
Thank you Marcia, for sharing with us your memory and love of your grandmother. I have been working on an essay about my mother, who is 89, and my grandparents who I grew up with and passed away many years ago. There is so much what you wrote in this essay, reminds me of my grandparents and mom. What you wrote also brought out something everyone of us will face - independence and aloneness. Thank you!
I love this essay. Such a tender remembrance of a life, but also a prompt: Who will we be as we age? I watched my grandmothers closely, when they were here, and cherish the memories. And now, I watch my parents, both 80, and wonder - what will this look like? How will I bear it? Thanks for writing.
I loved this so much. Thank you for sharing. I love that it made me think about the old women in my life when I was a child and the impressions they left on me. The arthritic hands, liver spots, and wheelchairs were all a bit intimidating, but the calm energy, gentleness and openness of these "old people" allowed me to sit a little closer and stare into their grey eyes. Thank you for this loving tribute and the way it prompted me to think about how I'd like to move through my final years, if I'm lucky enough to stick around a few more decades!
Thanks for this affectionate and honest portrait of your grandmother and the trials and tribulations of age. It’s startling how old folks in their 50s and 60s (probably 40s too!) seemed when we were young. It really does make you think once you reach the age they were.
My mother used to annoy me by refusing to admit her age. “You’re as young as you feel,” she would say. I scoffed at the time, but now think there’s some truth in that.
The only grandma I knew, Oma, was in her latter 70s when she died but always seemed ancient. She had various ailments and was also prone to serving undercooked meat (her eyesight was pretty bad toward the end of her life). But she kept M&Ms in the top drawer of a chest in the entry--and all her grandchildren knew where they were! My mother-in-law at 86 is sharp as a tack, has a knitting channel on YouTube and dyes her hair pink. Go figure!
Your grandmother was, I guess, "old" because she was sick and frail. Your title, "My First Old Person," made me try to remember back to the 1950s and I don't remember any old people. My grandparents were all in their 40s and my great-grandparents in their 60s and didn't seem old to me.
The only old people I remember from childhood were characters on TV sitcoms like Mrs. Odets, the neighbor on "My Little Margie," because they were stereotypical old people, fictional characters. Real older people didn't seem old.
I'm not sure I know any old people now even though I live with a 96-year-old parent.
I grew up on the opposite coast from both my grandmothers. I did not know either deeply, and I mourn that. I made sure my children knew my mother and father well, and, when I become a grandmother, I pray I am there, a few years at least, so I can be those children's "old person." Thanks for this beautiful essay.
What a beautifully written tribute to your grandmother and a thoughtful post about how aging will affect you. We can change some odds by making good choices but some things we have little control over. My grandmother was blind and cranky. Very cranky. My dad was blind and cranky. Very very cranky. I am determined, if that's my fate, to have a seeing eye dog and use technology as much as possible. But who knows...
This love letter to your grandmother is so tender and beautifully written. Reading it conjured images of my own. I am named after my grandmother who was impoverished frail and asthmatic. She had a large family and little time for sentiments but made me feel safe and loved. Having recently married and been given the gift of two grandsons, I do my best to remember what I am modeling for them.
I too have made it my life's habit to study the elderly. I suppose we will never know what kind if health we will have, and how mobile we will be but from what I have observed, we rarely have the illness and death we feared. And aging and death ate a test of our metal.The ultimate test is how well we handle ourselves. And on that score, I admire your grandmother. Despite chronic pain she rallied to make your meals and you both shared something beautiful. I admire her for making sure she was strong enough to look after you and give you love.
This is such a loving and bittersweet story. Being in my late 60's myself certainly causes me to pause and reconsider who I am in this life stage-in relation to my perception of elderly from experiences with my mother and grandmothers . I can view their full lives through a different more sympathetic lens and recall how their hardscrabble histories shaped them . I felt adored by my grandmothers in such a unique way. Thank you for your beautiful recollection.
A moving piece; made me quite emotional. A beautiful tribute to the love between you.
I loved all my grandmothers and the two great-grandmothers that lived long enough for me to spend time with them. You were a unique granddaughter; one your grandmother was aware of. Thank you for this endearing tribute.
Thank you for sharing your grandmother’s story. Reading your piece reminded me of both my grandmothers. On my dad side, she could barely walk due to severe arthritis in her knees. On my mother’s side, she had Alzheimer’s later on in life. We alternated weekends visits and there was always food. Feeling reminiscent. Thank you.
Thank you Marcia, for sharing with us your memory and love of your grandmother. I have been working on an essay about my mother, who is 89, and my grandparents who I grew up with and passed away many years ago. There is so much what you wrote in this essay, reminds me of my grandparents and mom. What you wrote also brought out something everyone of us will face - independence and aloneness. Thank you!
I love this essay. Such a tender remembrance of a life, but also a prompt: Who will we be as we age? I watched my grandmothers closely, when they were here, and cherish the memories. And now, I watch my parents, both 80, and wonder - what will this look like? How will I bear it? Thanks for writing.
Beautiful written, thank you for sharing this treasure. ❤️
Lovely writing here :)
I loved this so much. Thank you for sharing. I love that it made me think about the old women in my life when I was a child and the impressions they left on me. The arthritic hands, liver spots, and wheelchairs were all a bit intimidating, but the calm energy, gentleness and openness of these "old people" allowed me to sit a little closer and stare into their grey eyes. Thank you for this loving tribute and the way it prompted me to think about how I'd like to move through my final years, if I'm lucky enough to stick around a few more decades!
Thanks for this affectionate and honest portrait of your grandmother and the trials and tribulations of age. It’s startling how old folks in their 50s and 60s (probably 40s too!) seemed when we were young. It really does make you think once you reach the age they were.
My mother used to annoy me by refusing to admit her age. “You’re as young as you feel,” she would say. I scoffed at the time, but now think there’s some truth in that.
The only grandma I knew, Oma, was in her latter 70s when she died but always seemed ancient. She had various ailments and was also prone to serving undercooked meat (her eyesight was pretty bad toward the end of her life). But she kept M&Ms in the top drawer of a chest in the entry--and all her grandchildren knew where they were! My mother-in-law at 86 is sharp as a tack, has a knitting channel on YouTube and dyes her hair pink. Go figure!
This was a beautiful piece.
Your grandmother was, I guess, "old" because she was sick and frail. Your title, "My First Old Person," made me try to remember back to the 1950s and I don't remember any old people. My grandparents were all in their 40s and my great-grandparents in their 60s and didn't seem old to me.
The only old people I remember from childhood were characters on TV sitcoms like Mrs. Odets, the neighbor on "My Little Margie," because they were stereotypical old people, fictional characters. Real older people didn't seem old.
I'm not sure I know any old people now even though I live with a 96-year-old parent.
I grew up on the opposite coast from both my grandmothers. I did not know either deeply, and I mourn that. I made sure my children knew my mother and father well, and, when I become a grandmother, I pray I am there, a few years at least, so I can be those children's "old person." Thanks for this beautiful essay.
It seems we always fall short compared to our mothers and grandmothers! I enjoyed reading your piece.