One day the grandmother left the grandfather abruptly in the middle of the afternoon.
She was the grandma that wore an apron from dawn until dusk. She had family Sunday dinners on the dining room table that her grandchildren used to play under with her little ceramic characters that came in tea boxes way back when. She was the grandma that let her grandchildren win at cards and the one that made them Kraft Dinner with a rolled up piece of bologna and let them eat lunch in front of the tv. She was the grandma that set the family breakfast table the night before with pretty little egg cups and a plate for toast and she was the grandma that tucked her grandchildren in with blankets oh-so-snug and a prayer that mentioned something about the possibility of God taking their soul in the night – Now I lay me down to sleep – but that somehow, that would be an okay thing.
As I said, she left the grandfather right smack dab in the middle of the afternoon. She packed a bag and walked right across the street to go live with their daughter, a grown woman with four grown children of her own.
When they asked why she was leaving him after 50 some years, she said he assaulted her.
Lots of reasoning ensued, I’m sure.
Ultimately, the attack was diminished.
Ultimately, it was swept under the carpet.
Sometime later, their grown children packed up both of their belongings from the home the grandfather built and got them ready to go live the rest of their years in separate nursing homes. When she walked out the door without saying goodbye to the grandfather, they asked,
“Aren’t you going to say good bye to your husband?”
She said, “Oh! Goodbye.”
They might have thought it was the beginning of dementia, but I think it was done in defiance.
She had done her duty and it was time to get outta there.
Time to live the rest of her life in peace.
Maybe it is never too late to find your voice.
Maybe it’s never too late to find your magic.
Never diminish an older woman, especially grandmothers, down to cute little old ladies.
They maybe sweet because they have softened with age,
(they may not be sweet, but that’s another story. I’m talking nice grandmas, here, ok?)
or perhaps they have come to terms with their life experiences.
In any case, they have seen more than we can only hope to see
if we are lucky enough to become grandmothers ourselves.