I lost my grandmother.
It is a simple sentence which urges people to sympathise with beautiful and meaningful words and pictures. The intentions are pure, but it is lost because I lost my grandmother.
Never can this one sentence describe what I have lost.
I did not lose a person with the title of grandmother. I lost a person. A very important person.
My grandmother was, to say the least, a formidable person.
Because of how I grew up, both my grandparents played a very important role in my life. I lost my grandfather 26 years ago, and today I can still describe him in detail and feel his presence in my life. I lost my grandmother this past Saturday.
She was 99 years old. People would say it was time and I agree. I still lost my grandmother.
In the end she was merely a shadow of who she really was, but yet her spirit was still strong enough to want to eat and drink by herself. Ensuring that she remained neat and presentable throughout the process.
I once read that old age and dimentia breaks down many of your barriers and filters until only the core remains. I am so proud to say that the most beautiful core remained with my grandmother. Her faith in God remained strong, her love for her family was overwhelming, her gratefulness for every little thing was remarkable and her inability to complain, exemplary!
She was blind and mostly deaf. I have no memory of her ever complaining about either.
I lost my grandmother. I lost a wonderful person.
They showed me my grandmother's body. She wasn't there. She had left.
I grew up with a grandfather who never wanted to grow older than 70. He passed away a few months after turning 70. Peacefully, in his sleep. My grandfather used to tease my grandmother when he would tell us that she is so healthy, we would need to "hit her with a plank one day".
At 95 my younger brother suggested to my grandmother that he could bring the "plank". She advised him to try his luck as she would "hit back with her fist".
At 97 my grandmother pondered upon her age while we were standing outside so that she could feel the sun on her face. She said to me: "Ek is regtig nou stokoud!". She never enjoyed speaking about age, and thereafter she closed the book on that discussion.
If you were born in 1917, it means you lived through wars, depression, epidemics, industrialisation, apartheid, Nelson Mandela and the internet. My grandmother embraced change. We even have a "selfie" with her. She loved the wonder of emails that are sent and instant comments coming back on photos shared.
Age is all in the mind ... that was her philosophy. Earlier this year she asked me to look if she was also going grey ... as I had admitted to her. Her hair was grey yes, but her mind and attitude was young and full of life.
I lost my grandmother, but I gained a lifetime of love and memories with a person who knew how to pray, to love and to laugh!
Ek mis my Super Duper Granny!