Fortunately, or unfortunately, I guess it depends on your perspective...
When you look at the time stamp on this post, you'll maybe understand the title a little better.
My sister arrived on Tuesday from Ottawa to help my mom out with my dad who just had triple bypass surgery a week ago Tuesday. As I've mentioned previously, her book is out and selling. So tonight, she got to spend some time with the girls and we did our Christmas gift exchange to save on postage on everyone's part...and I got my copy of the book (as well as a beautiful painting!).
What happens is the same thing that happened two nights ago with a different book.... can't stop reading. And in this case, keep crying. Mind you, I've read the majority of the book previously (prior to the editors getting ahold of it and some things having been changed), I still had to read it again... and cry again.
I miss my Granny. I miss the fact that her amazingly simple telephone number is no longer hers and for some silly reason I was listed as power of attorney with Bell Canada and only *I* could cancel it (that was one of the more difficult calls I had to make in June), I miss the blowing of kisses, I miss her because even up until last March that she still could lip read "I love you", I miss her because of almond crescent cookies and chocolate 'turds' that won't be the same even with her receipe. I miss the tree that isn't hers anymore that had branches that could take your eye out even with glasses on. I miss being able to say "At the corner of Woodroffe and Iris, 3rd house in on the left with the huge tree." when giving directions to find me when I'm without a rental car...I miss the thousand tulip magnets on her fridge (thankfully I rescued some and they are on my fridge now and just now realized they were for Sudbury's Communities in Bloom festival when I thought they were for something CBC did...I've only seen those magnets for the past 20 yrs and never noticed...) I miss being able to buy the magnificant roosters that I find knowing they aren't going to a good home.
I miss driving in circles looking at the same Christmas lights over and over again but its like we saw the entire city and listening to the little-girl-like screeching of how wonderful they are but don't forget to stop for ice cream and she's buying and nevermind that its Dec 20th and minus 18 C.
I miss getting 'lost' and then getting truly lost and ending up at the airport on the otherside of the city when you started out in the west end.
One of my first memories of Granny is going into the Gatineau Hills in early spring for the maple syrup run and making taffy on the snow with the hot syrup. And going on a cruise on the Rideau Canal in my new red FAME jeans and posing with a 'Beefeater' on Parliament Hill.
Dee writes about finding out some history about Granny like her mother's name and the like. I took Granny for a drive and we went for supper and I asked her about her mother once... she gave me the same answer she'd given Dee for years. "I don't know, Mother I guess". I asked her about her wedding to Sandy.. she wore red.
In some ways, I am jealous of the things that Dee was able to share with Granny... but in others, exceptionally grateful not to have had the mountain that Dee had to climb.
When I wrote the following, I had been hoping to have it added to Dee's book as a foreword, however we were too late for the publishers... so I will include it here...
"For as long as I can remember, Granny had been deaf. When we were small, there was some slight hearing but as the years progressed, she relied heavily on her lip reading skills and her TTY to communicate with the world. As she got older, her house had some thingamajigs that my father had concocted to make her world easier – a flashing blue light over the fireplace mantle for the telephone, permanent CC on her tv, and various other gadgets that made it possible for Granny to still function at home without assistance.
Oct 20, 2004, just before 8am MST…
The persistent ring of the telephone has jarred me awake. ‘This had better be good.’ I mutter. I worked until 1am, anyone who calls before the clock strikes twelve better have a good reason.
“I listen to Jack.” I sleepily answer. I’m positive one day they will call and I will get my thousand dollars.
“May I speak to Kristin please?” this very professional monotone voice asks.
“Speaking” I mumble.
“Kristin, this is Joan with CCAC in Ottawa with regards to your grandmother, Lenore.” she says.
OK, I am awake now and sit upright in bed. If they’re calling me, they can’t find Dee and something bad has happened.
“Yes?” I manage to get out.
“Penny, the Paramed worker, arrived at your grandmother’s this morning and found the door locked and unable to get Lenore to the door which I understand is highly unusual. Irene is not home and unable to open the door for her as well.”
“Are the curtains still drawn?” I ask tentatively. If Granny is up, the curtains are open wide so she can view Iris St and all its comings and goings and watch Chance take wild chances crossing Iris bounding after a squirrel.
“As far as I am aware, they are. We have been unable to reach Heather and you’re next on the list.”
“Ok, let me deal with this, where can I reach you?”
She gives me her number and I fall into panic mode. I’m 2500 miles away and if Dee is unavailable, that leaves my father. He is completely incapable of dealing with this, but he is my next option. After calling my mother in freak-out mode and crying my eyes out, I call Dad. No answer, but I leave a message.
I try Granny’s a couple of times more out of hope than expecting an answer and make the decision about 30 minutes later to send the police.
I call their dispatch centre and give all the pertinent details and advise them the best window to go in so as to not crash into furniture or antiques as the front door is double dead bolted and there isn’t a hope in Christmas they’re going to get in that.
And then I wait… and wait.
My father finally returns my call and I advise him of what I’ve done and he starts calling every 5 minutes to Granny’s.
The Ottawa Police call me back.
“Hi Kristin, it’s Officer So-and-So from Ottawa PD, and we’re at your grandmother’s. The officers don’t want to scare her and break in, but we see something and they’re afraid to scare her.”
“What do they see?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean? Do they see her? Do they see a light flashing? What?”
“I don’t know. But the officers don’t want to scare her.”
So here is my brain about to implode. You don’t know what you see, but you don’t want to scare her, so do you see her? A flashing light? What?
I suggest that they write POLICE OPEN THE DOOR in the biggest letters possible and she will then come to the door and won’t be scared if it is indeed her they see.
I leave them to do what they need to do and my father calls me again about 15 minutes later.
“I just spoke to an officer in the house. They have called for the ambulance and they’re taking her to the Queensway Carleton.”
“Ok, I will keep trying to get Dee.”
This was the beginning of a slow journey downhill. This story of my Granny is a lot of who she was at the end, and tidbits of the past, but it doesn’t hold all the memories.
My sister did what she felt was the best and necessary and gave Granny her final wish.
My wish is that my sister will find some peace and sanity after 3 years of insanity and that Granny is watching over her and keeping her safe."
And now, since I should be sleeping as I have to get up to do the school bus run, I am going to fall into a drug induced slumber (yay speedy tylenol) and hope that I am coherent to be up in 3 hrs.
My sister arrived on Tuesday from Ottawa to help my mom out with my dad who just had triple bypass surgery a week ago Tuesday. As I've mentioned previously, her book is out and selling. So tonight, she got to spend some time with the girls and we did our Christmas gift exchange to save on postage on everyone's part...and I got my copy of the book (as well as a beautiful painting!).
What happens is the same thing that happened two nights ago with a different book.... can't stop reading. And in this case, keep crying. Mind you, I've read the majority of the book previously (prior to the editors getting ahold of it and some things having been changed), I still had to read it again... and cry again.
I miss my Granny. I miss the fact that her amazingly simple telephone number is no longer hers and for some silly reason I was listed as power of attorney with Bell Canada and only *I* could cancel it (that was one of the more difficult calls I had to make in June), I miss the blowing of kisses, I miss her because even up until last March that she still could lip read "I love you", I miss her because of almond crescent cookies and chocolate 'turds' that won't be the same even with her receipe. I miss the tree that isn't hers anymore that had branches that could take your eye out even with glasses on. I miss being able to say "At the corner of Woodroffe and Iris, 3rd house in on the left with the huge tree." when giving directions to find me when I'm without a rental car...I miss the thousand tulip magnets on her fridge (thankfully I rescued some and they are on my fridge now and just now realized they were for Sudbury's Communities in Bloom festival when I thought they were for something CBC did...I've only seen those magnets for the past 20 yrs and never noticed...) I miss being able to buy the magnificant roosters that I find knowing they aren't going to a good home.
I miss driving in circles looking at the same Christmas lights over and over again but its like we saw the entire city and listening to the little-girl-like screeching of how wonderful they are but don't forget to stop for ice cream and she's buying and nevermind that its Dec 20th and minus 18 C.
I miss getting 'lost' and then getting truly lost and ending up at the airport on the otherside of the city when you started out in the west end.
One of my first memories of Granny is going into the Gatineau Hills in early spring for the maple syrup run and making taffy on the snow with the hot syrup. And going on a cruise on the Rideau Canal in my new red FAME jeans and posing with a 'Beefeater' on Parliament Hill.
Dee writes about finding out some history about Granny like her mother's name and the like. I took Granny for a drive and we went for supper and I asked her about her mother once... she gave me the same answer she'd given Dee for years. "I don't know, Mother I guess". I asked her about her wedding to Sandy.. she wore red.
In some ways, I am jealous of the things that Dee was able to share with Granny... but in others, exceptionally grateful not to have had the mountain that Dee had to climb.
When I wrote the following, I had been hoping to have it added to Dee's book as a foreword, however we were too late for the publishers... so I will include it here...
"For as long as I can remember, Granny had been deaf. When we were small, there was some slight hearing but as the years progressed, she relied heavily on her lip reading skills and her TTY to communicate with the world. As she got older, her house had some thingamajigs that my father had concocted to make her world easier – a flashing blue light over the fireplace mantle for the telephone, permanent CC on her tv, and various other gadgets that made it possible for Granny to still function at home without assistance.
Oct 20, 2004, just before 8am MST…
The persistent ring of the telephone has jarred me awake. ‘This had better be good.’ I mutter. I worked until 1am, anyone who calls before the clock strikes twelve better have a good reason.
“I listen to Jack.” I sleepily answer. I’m positive one day they will call and I will get my thousand dollars.
“May I speak to Kristin please?” this very professional monotone voice asks.
“Speaking” I mumble.
“Kristin, this is Joan with CCAC in Ottawa with regards to your grandmother, Lenore.” she says.
OK, I am awake now and sit upright in bed. If they’re calling me, they can’t find Dee and something bad has happened.
“Yes?” I manage to get out.
“Penny, the Paramed worker, arrived at your grandmother’s this morning and found the door locked and unable to get Lenore to the door which I understand is highly unusual. Irene is not home and unable to open the door for her as well.”
“Are the curtains still drawn?” I ask tentatively. If Granny is up, the curtains are open wide so she can view Iris St and all its comings and goings and watch Chance take wild chances crossing Iris bounding after a squirrel.
“As far as I am aware, they are. We have been unable to reach Heather and you’re next on the list.”
“Ok, let me deal with this, where can I reach you?”
She gives me her number and I fall into panic mode. I’m 2500 miles away and if Dee is unavailable, that leaves my father. He is completely incapable of dealing with this, but he is my next option. After calling my mother in freak-out mode and crying my eyes out, I call Dad. No answer, but I leave a message.
I try Granny’s a couple of times more out of hope than expecting an answer and make the decision about 30 minutes later to send the police.
I call their dispatch centre and give all the pertinent details and advise them the best window to go in so as to not crash into furniture or antiques as the front door is double dead bolted and there isn’t a hope in Christmas they’re going to get in that.
And then I wait… and wait.
My father finally returns my call and I advise him of what I’ve done and he starts calling every 5 minutes to Granny’s.
The Ottawa Police call me back.
“Hi Kristin, it’s Officer So-and-So from Ottawa PD, and we’re at your grandmother’s. The officers don’t want to scare her and break in, but we see something and they’re afraid to scare her.”
“What do they see?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean? Do they see her? Do they see a light flashing? What?”
“I don’t know. But the officers don’t want to scare her.”
So here is my brain about to implode. You don’t know what you see, but you don’t want to scare her, so do you see her? A flashing light? What?
I suggest that they write POLICE OPEN THE DOOR in the biggest letters possible and she will then come to the door and won’t be scared if it is indeed her they see.
I leave them to do what they need to do and my father calls me again about 15 minutes later.
“I just spoke to an officer in the house. They have called for the ambulance and they’re taking her to the Queensway Carleton.”
“Ok, I will keep trying to get Dee.”
This was the beginning of a slow journey downhill. This story of my Granny is a lot of who she was at the end, and tidbits of the past, but it doesn’t hold all the memories.
My sister did what she felt was the best and necessary and gave Granny her final wish.
My wish is that my sister will find some peace and sanity after 3 years of insanity and that Granny is watching over her and keeping her safe."
And now, since I should be sleeping as I have to get up to do the school bus run, I am going to fall into a drug induced slumber (yay speedy tylenol) and hope that I am coherent to be up in 3 hrs.
posted by Kristin at 12/01/2006 03:47:00 AM
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