Remembering Grandma
For most people, today is little more than the first full of spring. Today has a different meaning for me, though. Today marks the 10th anniversary of the death of one of my grandmothers, Evelyn Paulike Wakefield-Moreland.
Of all my grandparents, Grandma Evelyn was the only one I knew. I did get to meet one of my maternal great-grandmothers when I was very young, but Grandma Evelyn is the only grandparent of whom I really have any first-hand knowledge or memories.
A big part of the reason why I remember her as well as I do is because she helped raise me. She lived with my parents since the mid-1970s before I was born until about six months before she died. In those final months, she resided under care at the Brookview Manor nursing home. Yes, during my formative years, Grandma Evelyn was always a strong presence.
Amid all the busyness of the day, with taking care of plans for my trip to the Twin Cities tomorrow and the memorial for my friend David Pego, my mind couldn't help but go back to that day in 1996 when Grandma crossed over. I remember it being warm of a March day, and I was a senior in high school. It must have been during my free hour because I wasn't in class at the time. The Brookings High School band had been getting ready for a forthcoming concert, and had had to borrow some percussion equipment from the middle school band. One of those pieces of equipment was a snare drum stand, and I was charged with returning it to the middle school bandroom.
I dropped the stand off at the middle school, and climbed back into my car, a red 1986 Honda Civic Si. The car had otherwise been faithful and reliable, but chose to be otherwise that day. I turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened. Since I couldn't see anything wrong under the hood, I called my dad and asked him to pick me up. He arrived within about 15 minutes. As soon as he stepped out of the car and began walking toward me, I could tell that something had happened. And I was right. He informed me that Grandma had died. I was sad that she had died, but like the rest of my family, I found relief in the knowledge that she wasn't suffering anymore.
With that said, all I can say is, "Grandma, I love you and remember you."
Of all my grandparents, Grandma Evelyn was the only one I knew. I did get to meet one of my maternal great-grandmothers when I was very young, but Grandma Evelyn is the only grandparent of whom I really have any first-hand knowledge or memories.
A big part of the reason why I remember her as well as I do is because she helped raise me. She lived with my parents since the mid-1970s before I was born until about six months before she died. In those final months, she resided under care at the Brookview Manor nursing home. Yes, during my formative years, Grandma Evelyn was always a strong presence.
Amid all the busyness of the day, with taking care of plans for my trip to the Twin Cities tomorrow and the memorial for my friend David Pego, my mind couldn't help but go back to that day in 1996 when Grandma crossed over. I remember it being warm of a March day, and I was a senior in high school. It must have been during my free hour because I wasn't in class at the time. The Brookings High School band had been getting ready for a forthcoming concert, and had had to borrow some percussion equipment from the middle school band. One of those pieces of equipment was a snare drum stand, and I was charged with returning it to the middle school bandroom.
I dropped the stand off at the middle school, and climbed back into my car, a red 1986 Honda Civic Si. The car had otherwise been faithful and reliable, but chose to be otherwise that day. I turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened. Since I couldn't see anything wrong under the hood, I called my dad and asked him to pick me up. He arrived within about 15 minutes. As soon as he stepped out of the car and began walking toward me, I could tell that something had happened. And I was right. He informed me that Grandma had died. I was sad that she had died, but like the rest of my family, I found relief in the knowledge that she wasn't suffering anymore.
With that said, all I can say is, "Grandma, I love you and remember you."
posted by DrummerScribe | 11:23 PM
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