Grandma Gail

“Grandma, Grandma, be careful! You’re old!” I cried out to my Grandma as she waded into the crashing waves of the ocean. I was nine and an expert wave navigator. And I was not confident that she understood what she was in for. She loved this story and reminded me every year, each time I saw her, laughing as if it was the first time every time. 

Visiting my Grandma was like visiting a queen. Her beautiful perfume tray was proof. I wasn’t sure I liked the smells- but I liked how all of the perfumes looked. This was definitely how a classy lady kept her perfumes. When I would visit Grandma would let me pick out some jewelry to wear from her collection. She would even give me her extra make-up to wear. She made me feel extremely fancy. 

Grandma was a teacher. I remember going to her class when I was little and it was the coolest thing ever. To be the teachers granddaughter. I was younger than her students so everyone thought I was basically a baby and very cute. And best of all I was not responsible for learning any of the things she was teaching. She welcomed me into her classroom and again made me feel very special. 

My grandma supported me in the arts all through my childhood, flying across the country for dance recitals and shows. As the grandchildren got old enough, She and Grandpa would take each of us on a trip. They took me up to Niagara Falls and to see Anything Goes. They bought me the broadway soundtrack of the show, which I proceeded to listen to 103 times. That show has been very special to me ever since. 

My Grandma was always one to have an opinion and was not afraid to share her insightful point of view. I remember excitedly showing her a garden I had planted (Which honestly probably looked terrible). I was not quite prepared for the constructive feedback she had for me. Looking back this makes me chuckle. As I grew older I took pride in my Grandmother, like any good Jewish Grandmother she gave her advice whether you asked for it or not- because she probably did know something you didn’t.

My Grandma passed away on Saturday. It has been a few years since she lived on her own. She has been living in an assisted living home for people with dementia and Alzheimers. I went to visit her a couple years ago. I was driving home from my contract in Virginia. I was able to stay with my aunt and uncle for about four days and I went to visit her each day by myself. The first day I remember was very hard and scary. It was so strange to see my Grandma in this place that I did not know, and to see her not know herself. My grandma was always strikingly present. She was quite a feisty woman. Never without an opinion and always up for an argument. Seeing her here in such a mellow state was unnerving. I pushed her around the court in her wheelchair. We sat in the activity room for a while. I held back tears the entire visit. The second and third days became more natural. It was no longer a tearful visit but one filled with laughter. Some of the other guests wanted to join in our visit and they were very funny. I remember the nurses, very frustrated running after a patient who had escaped them and was sneaking around half-dressed. The other patients found this very funny too. The last day of my visit the workers brought out a giant makeup box for the patients to put on and play with. My Grandma’s makeup always looked impeccable in her day. She never left the house without being perfectly made up. She was a classy lady. This day we brushed on some shimmery eye-shadow and blush and called it good. 

I am grateful for the memory of this visit. That I got to see her. But it wasn’t the her I knew. It wasn’t my full Grandma. She was there. But she also wasn’t. It was like a dream of her. But if she wasn’t fully there, and she definitely wasn’t gone, where was she? Where does the soul linger when the mind is shutting down and the body is not? This thought weighs heavily on me sometimes. I tried calling my Grandma a couple times on the phone after that visit two years ago. I remember sitting in a parking lot, back in Virginia, and asking the worker on the phone to put Gail Haimes on. She tracked her down and put her on the phone. The attempt was pretty futile. Grandma was confused as to who I was or where I was. Without seeing me in front of her it was very difficult for her to follow a sentence. The information wouldn’t quite track. It ended up being a frustrating conversation for her and fruitless for me- although I did love hearing her voice. I didn’t call her again after that. I realized it wasn’t helping her at all- or at least that’s how it seemed to me. I got to say hi a couple other times in the past two years when a family member was there with her and would put me on the phone briefly. I never got to see her again though. I wish I did. I wish I had gone. I haven’t been out to Cleveland at all in the past couple years. 

My Grandma is not who she was at the end. At her funeral the grandchildren all stood up together and told stories that we had planned and written out, some of them I shared here. It was pretty cool to be up there all together, remembering her, and sharing. My brother said something- that my Grandma was energy and energy cannot be created or destroyed- but only passed on. And that we all have her energy now. Something did happen when she passed away…it was like her stories were released. It was like I could feel her full essence again. The way everyone talked about her- she was there. I could feel her, memory intact. 

I do believe my Grandma is in a better place now. We lost her this weekend, but at the same time i felt like we started loosing her a long time ago. And yet we couldn’t yet say goodbye. I realized today that I miss her. That I have missed her for years, but couldn’t fully realize it. Looking at one of her pretty rings that now sits on my finger, I miss her so much. I wish she had it on her finger, and was sitting across from me. And I could tell her all of the things that have happened to me in the past several years. And to everyone.

I had already arranged to be out of New York this past week. I had flown home to Colorado on Saturday for my dear childhood friends’ wedding on Sunday. Joe was flying in to meet me and see my hometown on Monday. We ended up changing flights and all met in Cleveland on Monday. And today is Thursday and we are flying back to New York- the same day we originally planned to. It is actually quite crazy the timing of it all. I was mentioning this to someone at the Shiva and they said “Gail did have a sense of humor.”

Although it was a heartbreaking reason, being all together with my family and extended family and friends of the family was the best feeling. Seeing my friend Colleen get married was the best feeling. Our hearts have so much capacity for love and for loss. The mixture of it all, stirred up inside me is so strange. In some ways it all really feels like the same thing. It’s all love. Just different shades. It is so hard to leave the warmth that only family sharing a room together can bring. I would love to stay in that home, laughing with my cousins, playing games, and eating way too much food. But now it is back to our lives.

Hug your family tight. If they are anything like mine they are crazy, argumentative, frustrating, and the most important thing in the world. 

This is my Grandma Gail with my uncle (left) and dad (right), my Grandma in the center photo, isn’t she beautiful? And my Grandma with my Grandpa Marshall in the right photo. They are finally together again.

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This is a tower of ice cream provided to us by Scott and Shelly. They are life-time friends of my aunt and uncle and have supported me over the years as well- making multiple trips out to Barter to see our shows. They made sure we were well fed over the past several days. 

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