Potentially a Downer

This entry won't be like many you'll read here. It involves feelings, some of them negative, and I'm generally against such. If you are similarly averse, feel free to skip.

This weekend was the first time I'd seen my paternal grandmother in about 6 years. She lives in Indiana, so it's a bit of a trip for us, and it's one we didn't make terribly often. Still, she's been a larger part of my life than I realized before I saw her again. She used to come out and visit quite a bit, and came out for a long time to help my mom with us older kids when my mom was pregnant with my little sister. As many of you know, I have a strange inability to keep track of events in my life. Not like full-on amnesia or anything, but things that happen to me tend to fall away quickly, leaving very little emotional residue behind. When I do remember my younger years, it's primarily as a list of facts and events, similar to what you could get from a vague history text. This effect had been in full swing until I sat in a small room with a woman who had been around my entire life, and whom I realized I hadn't really bothered to know.

My grandma was born in 1918 in a small town in Indiana. Her parents owned a farm, where she worked probably until she got married. I don't know how she and my grandpa met. She lived through the great depression without being aware of it, since their farm provided everything she and her sisters needed. She had three sisters (something I did know) and two brothers (a fact I learned this weekend), but the brothers both died young. She had two sons, lived in the same house for over 60 years, and traveled when she was able. I know that she was strong up until just a few years ago, and that she kept a garden as long as she could. I know she was a great cook, and that she has a lot of friends. This, upsettingly enough, is nearly everything I can say about her with any degree of certainty.

The reason this is coming to the surface now is that she had a respiratory infection a few years back that was treated with steroids which then caused her throat muscles to atrophy. Essentially, she can't speak without great difficulty, and can only eat foods of a specific viscosity (water and other drinks have to be thickened so she doesn't aspirate them). She can speak, but she's difficult to understand and the effort wears her out quickly. I sat there in that room with my mom and dad, my two sisters, and the two newest members of our family, and realized how much I will never know about my grandma. She spent years with us, and I never thought to ask her about her life. I'm sure she told me some of it when I was younger, but I don't remember much now. The difficult part to accept is that when I'm finally old and mature enough to listen, she can't tell me what I was too young and stupid to ask about before.

I don't want this to be one of those "Don't let this happen to you" sort of things, nor should it be something you feel guilty about if you're in a similar situation. Just know that by the time you're ready to listen, the ones you love may not be able to speak.