Fields Of Gold

"You’ll remember me when the west wind moves among the fields of barley. You can tell the sun in his jealous sky when we walked in fields of gold.” - Eva Cassidy, Fields of Gold

Hello Dear Friend,

Funny how the older we get time seems to pass all too quickly doesn’t it? I can’t believe two years have already come and gone since my grandma, my mom’s mom, passed away. I remember when we heard the news, it was Father’s Day and I was down the mountain at my parents celebrating my dad when my mom got the phone call.

Here's the craziness of it all, my mom and I had been planning a vacation up North and our plans had us heading up their the following weekend with the intent of stopping at my Grandparents for a day or two before continuing on to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. We were discussing different things regarding the trip and since my grandma had been deteriorating more and more rapidly over the past few months and hospice had come in, one of our discussions included us saying we should bring a couple formal outfits to wear just in case the worst should happen while we were up there and she passed.

So there we sat in my parent’s living room after my mom had hung up the phone and told us that Grandma had passed. Like the snap of the fingers our focus of that day changed completely. We all sat there trying to figure out what actions to take next. My mom had one focus…get up to the little farm-town just off Lake Michigan that she had grown up in as fast as possible so that she could be there for/with her dad.

"To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die." - Thomas Campbell

Her passing had me thinking a lot about time. How, for some there never seems to be enough. For other’s it’s feared and how there's too many of us complaining when we feel like we’re running out of it or when we feel there’s too much. For my grandmother though, time was both beautiful and cruel.

You see, she had Alzheimer’s for years. Let me just say, Alzheimer’s is one ugly bitch of a disease. It’s a thief that comes after its victims with a fierce and dark vengeance. Throughout most of my adult life, I had to stand helpless on the sidelines and painfully watch as this illness slowly stole my grandmother’s memories and mobility.

As her mind slipped more and more I remember the rare visits when we’d be back in Michigan for a visit. She and my grandpa would come out to the cottage where we'd be staying and upon their arrival we’d all rush out the door to greet and hug them. When I went in for a hug I’d have to remind her who I was “Hi, Grandma!" I'd say, "It’s Deanna, your granddaughter." Sadly, I only had a couple more years’ worth of visits before the day came when she forgot entirely and I became a complete stranger to her. The last few times I had the chance to see her I had to pretend that I was meeting her for the first time since in her mind, she didn’t have any children, or grandchildren, or married even. She saw me as a stranger in her house and asked, “Well, who are you?”

As I mentioned earlier, it was Sunday, June 17, 2018 when she left us. Looking back, I think some of my most cherished memories of her as she battled Alzheimer’s disease where of the times when I would catch someone interacting with her, an old friend or a family member, and something in her would register. It would click, the disease would loosen its grasp and for however fleeting the moment was she’d remember. It was in these moments that I would watch as her face lit up and her eyes danced and I would catch a glimpse of the woman she once was – radiant and as fierce as the disease that held her captive.

Although the goodbyes are always painful, I choose to celebrate the life of a woman whose mind was sharp and whose hands were always busy doing something. Whether it was needles in her hands with countless skeins of yarn nearby as she knit or crocheted away or if she was held up in the kitchen whipping up something amazing with her cooking and baking skills her hands always kept busy. If she couldn’t be found in the kitchen or around the house you’d race out to find her in the fields or orchards or the pumpkin patch either planting or picking the harvest (depending on the season), or maybe she’d be in the greenhouse watering flowers or in the Apple cellar preparing for market.

My grandma was a woman who knew what hard work and sacrifice felt like but she was also a woman who played hard and whose feet danced through life. I can recall my brother always begging her to make her Sloppy Joe's whenever we were up there for a visit and one year he even asked her for the recipe. I mean the woman could cook like nobody’s business. After all, what holiday or celebration would be complete without one of her favorite family recipes? There was Grandma’s Green Stuff, Peanut Butter Blossom cookies, her Fluff Cake and Sour Cream Sugar cookies just to name a few. As kids or adults she’d always ask you if you wanted a Popsicle or some ice-cream pretty much upon your arrival and she never disappointed you when you’d opened up “Grandma’s Candy Jar” to discover it always held your favorite flavored caramels.

One of my favorite life quotes is by Abraham Lincoln. He said, “It’s not the number of years in your life that matter but rather the life in your years.” My grandmother sure made her years in this life count. Her life was filled with stories of wonderful moments and cherished memories that will carry throughout the lives of those she’s left behind. I love sitting around the table eating, playing bunco, or just chilling while listening as my mom, her sister and their cousin talk about the days of their youth and all their memories from growing up on the farm and the time spent on the market with their parents, grandparents, and siblings. On some occasions my grandpa and/or great aunt will even join in with the stories telling us things and sharing their own memories of days since passed.

With love,

a Poetic Soul