The Moomster….two years later….

I went to see Blue Valentine last night.  My god.  Why aren’t people talking about their performances more?  I thought I was intruding in someones life.  The story of their relationship was the basis of the movie but there was a sweet side story of Michelle William’s character with her grandmother. I welled up instantly and remembered that it was two years ago on Tuesday that I lost my grandmother.

We called her Moo Moo.  She was 103 when she died.  Yes – you read that right 103 freaking years old.  Her mom was 102 I think.  Her cousin is still ticking at 101.  My mother was 59.  Somethings are unfair.

For the eight years that she outlived her daughter, we fought her fights together.  I’m no martyr, I was the closest grandchild without children so it made sense.  But it wasn’t easy.  She had a very difficult time dealing with dementia and profound deafness. 

We spent hours in hospitals.  I gave her countless manis and *gulp* pedis.  We drank 4000 cups of coffee.  We fought, we talked, we cried.  She asked questions…so many questions.  Now that I have Will – I really do see the circle of life.  It’s like she went back to toddler’hood…(and not just the diapers).  I mean the endless questions – the ‘why’ – the ‘what’.  Some of her questions stumped me….how do you explain email?  Some made me howl.  After I travelled to Greece, I showed her my pictures and she pointed to a bunch of guys and said – ‘which one did you have?’  I said ‘WHAT!”.  ‘Dear…which one did you HAVE??’ – She was saucy!

After she died, Will and I picked out her box (no urn for her), and ultimately picked her up in it.  For some reason the visual of driving around with Will in the car seat and her ashes next to him makes me smile.  It just seemed fitting.  I think she hung around so long just to make sure I had him. Here’s a taste of her humour … the whole donor thing made her very curious…

I spoke at her funeral….and here is a bit of what I said – it’ll give you the flavour of Moo Moo.  I’ll be honest, I don’t miss the responsibility of caring for her, but I do miss her.

Moo Moo wasn’t your soft and fuzzy grandmother.  She wasn’t going to have you over to bake cookies or to sit on her lap and read you books.  But her other ‘not so typical’ grandmotherly qualities were incredible.

She could make you think.  I still couldn’t begin to explain to you how the internet or a fax machine works…but she wanted to know – and she wasn’t impressed that I couldn’t tell her.  Moo Moo wanted to know why we don’t dress up to fly anymore, how it was okay to wear jeans on a date …or why anyone would buy the cow when they could get the milk for free.

She could make you smile.  If Moo Moo only knew that Starbucks actually was the good stuff and not Tim’s, maybe she wouldn’t have complained when you brought it.  She didn’t see anything wrong with trying to order lobster at the nursing home or refusing to eat what they brought her when it wasn’t the lobster.  Or even at 100, she could still shamelessly flirt with the denture man and give you the look of ‘that’s the way it’s done Sara’.

She could make you crazy.  Because no, contrary to Moo Moo’s ongoing belief – a family of squirrels were not living in my hair undetected.  No one was stealing her black pants.  Dad was not a high ranking member of the church, my last name really is Lanthier. (dear are you sure?) – and not every sentence begins with ‘there now, there now’.

She could astound you with her curiosity.  There are not a whole lot of elderly grandmothers who could understand AND accept their granddaughter using a sperm donor to have a child and Moo Moo was on board the whole time.  She was amazed by it all.  When I did tell her I was pregnant, she was so excited and was crying and said ‘can I tell Florence'(her long dead sister) – I said sure – so she said ‘florence, Florence can you believe it – she got pregnant without a man.’

She could amaze you with her strength.  How many broken bones, how many falls, how many little strokes and on she went.  The last time she broke her hip the doctor said she wouldn’t survive the anesthetic – but she came out singing.  They said she wouldn’t walk – but she did.  I left her in the hospital one night thinking that I wouldn’t see her in the morning -I walked back in and she was drinking a Timmy’s and eating a bagel.  All at 101.  Emotionally – she endured so much over her life and just sucked it up and got on with things.  We could all learn a lesson from that.  She didn’t waste time wallowing or asking why.  She accepted it and moved forward. 

Most of all she could surprise you.  Even though she wasn’t the warm and fuzzy cookie baking kind of grandmother – she was an amazing ‘broad’ – tough, smart and funny.  And she loved – albeit silently and in her own way.  It was love when she watched over Will while he slept and covered him on and off with a blanket, silently talking to him;  it was love when she said her final goodbye to mom and left before breaking down so mom wouldn’t have to see it and it was love everytime you walked in the room whether she was smiling at you or bitching at you for being late.  It took me a long time to recognize that but I’m glad I finally did.  I was lucky to have her – we all were.

**good thing she was deaf…she thought he never cried…**