Watching from the (storm) clouds

Whenever I talked to my Grandma, the subject of weather would always - ALWAYS - come up. From the oppressive Florida humidity to the unpredictable Pittsburgh winters, we'd commiserate, compare and put in to perspective the weather woes of the week.

Grandma passed away in March. She was 82. And while she's never far from my mind, I realized with a laugh today that Grandma is with us still, checking in and making sure we don't forget about her. Grandma, whose first name was Irene, is tropical storming in to our lives in the form of Hurricane Irene. 

We knew Grandma's death was coming for several weeks. Regardless, the grieving has been slow and painful. And for me, mostly personal. Elle and I share the middle name Irene, and Grandma and I were very close.

October 2010.

I don't think I'd really lost any one I was super close to until my maternal grandmother passed away in 2002. I think that loss was hardest for me because I saw (well, as much seeing as I could do from my internship in Michigan) how it hit my mother. Then my paternal grandfather died in 2006. I was very close to him, and that really shook me. I was fortunate enough to be living near he and my grandmother at the time, so I got to spend time with him in those final months and be there to help and support my grandmother during the difficult months after. She was admirable - focusing on the fact that my grandfather was no longer suffering, no longer living in the limbo that was his declining health for almost three years.

Grandma was always the glue that kept the family together. When she died, I was relieved that she was no longer suffering. I think it took a while for her loss to really hit me, because at the time I a) was expecting it to some degree and b) went in to planner mode automatically, booking my flight, packing our bags, arranging our plans for the visitation and funeral. At the funeral home, my niece, Abby, and Elle met relatives and family friends for the first time. They required food, naps, down time ... basically, they were the perfect distraction. Grandma loved those little girls with all of her heart, and it was fitting that they were such bright spots during what could have been such a sad, sad time.

But we were all struck by the juxtaposition - Grandma's death was sad. It was a huge loss for our family. But Abby and Elle are the future, carrying on the idea of family that Grandma so deeply instilled in all of us. And I think Grandma would have wanted it that way.

Circa 1981.

Grandma had an infection in her foot that wouldn't go away. It was diagnosed as MRSA, and she was admitted to the hospital to treat it with IV antibiotics. The doctors decided to perform surgery to try and remove the site of the infection - they were happy that it wasn't in her bones, which would have been harder to treat and eradicate. I talked to Grandma the night before the surgery - she was irritated with being in the hospital but determined to get better and get out of the hospital and back home. She knew the only way she could return to her apartment and some sense of her independence (she had already been told she would be unable to drive for a year because of the location of the MRSA in her foot) was to do what the doctors told her.

I was concerned, but Grandma was full of reassurance and determination.

April 2010

Grandma had a stroke during or immediately after the surgery. We're thankful that she was surrounded by medical professionals when it happened instead of being home alone. But she lost a lot of the use of her left side of her body. Her speech wasn't the same. Her dentures no longer fit her. She was unable to eat normally or speak clearly.

I truly think my grandmother realized she would never return to the level of independence and quality of life that she had been living before she entered the hospital. Rather than live a shell of her former life, Grandma was done. She was in a lot of pain. She didn't want to be a burden to her family (not that she ever was, but she knew how consuming it was to care for and watch the decline of a loved one's health). She didn't want to prolong her suffering. She slowly started to lose weight. She slept more. She had good days and bad days. She was transferred several times between the hospital and assisted living facilities, and she ended up back in the hospital with a kidney infection.

At one point, Grandma was eating very little, then suddenly requested a lot of fried food, fast food, fatty foods. We all knew what she was doing - she hoped that if she bulked up enough she would be allowed to go home, where at least she could spend the rest of her days surrounding by familiar surroundings and belongings. But it didn't happen.

She passed away early in the morning of March 24.

Nov. 2008.

I'm hit at random times by my grief. When I admonish Elle with a stern "Elizabeth Irene." When I am driving to work and wish I could still call Grandma. When my sister posts photos of furniture that we grew up with as fixtures in our grandparents' home - now in my sister's dining room. When I turned 30 and there was no birthday card from Grandma. When I go through old greeting cards and find the last Christmas card I received from her. And then, when I receive an e-mail from a genealogy Web site reminding me that "Irene turns 83 on June 4!"

And when I read the newspaper and hear about how strong Hurricane Irene is getting as she gets stronger and approaches the Florida coast. I like to think it's Grandma's way of sticking around and checking in. She always worried about me living in Florida, with the possibility of hurricanes, among other weather issues, and I see this as the universe's way of keeping her close.