Rick's grandmother passed away this morning. Our hearts are sad, but our memories are sweet.
I’ll never forget standing beside the hospital bed that held our ninety-six year old, seventy-three pound grandmother. “Grandma, does it hurt when they feed you through your feeding tube?” I asked.
Her voice, weakened by the tumor in her throat, quivered. “Oh, I can feel it, but it’s not bad enough to complain about.”
“Good,” I said. “We don’t want you to complain about anything.”
She grinned. “Now, I’m not going to give that up! That’s a right I’m going to reserve.”
Grandma liked to complain. It was her way of stating her opinion. She was not a negative person, just a sweet-spirited complainer. She once told me complaining was her right because she had lived so long. Current fashions and hair styles, government, doctors, and various imperfect human behaviors were a few of her favorite things about which to complain.
Grandma was a good mother and grandmother. She was a hard worker and provided well for her family. But what I will remember most about her was the way she let you know what she thought and believed through complaints. Then, when she had felt that she had said enough, she would add, “But you can’t do anything about it, so there’s no need to complain.”
We will miss her very much. Rick and I will fly home for the funeral but will return to the Atlanta area as Rick still has work to do here. Your prayers will be appreciated.