Most Eighty-Five Year Old Grandmas

Most eighty-five year olds plant marigolds around their garden to ward off rabbits. Grandma used her twenty-two. She lived on the edge of town and seemed to get away with it. A widow of almost fifty years, she preferred if the grand kids came over and pulled the trigger. Then afterwards, she was able to have a conversation and ward off loneliness for a time.

To her grand kids, it was all worth it. Few can spin a tale like Grandma. Few people have been through as many things as Grandma though. She has lived through wars, recessions, booms, and the tragic death of her spouse.

One time I asked her why she never remarried. She said, “I thought your favorite movie was Good Will Hunting. Do you remember what Robin Williams’ character says?”

“My wife is dead.”

“That is right. His wife is dead. My husband is dead.”

Apparently Good Will Hunting has been running on cable lately. Anyways, Grandma has seen it all, but she still has no mercy for rabbits. Carrots are $0.99 at the local grocery store, but if a little cute bunny rabbit eats one of hers you would think it had made off with her savings account. Her mother, a Great Depression survivor, taught her how to be thrifty and how important a garden was. Her father was the one who taught her to shoot the twenty-two.

I never met my grandpa, but they say he was one of the best. They also tell me he was about as proud as they come. The 1980’s came around, and he nearly lost it all farming. About that time tragedy struck. He was moving some bales around in the hay loft and fell out of the top story of the barn. His life insurance policy was the only reason Grandma was able to carry on financially without him. Farming came back in a big way, and she sold the farm for a mint.

The last day I saw her she was in quite a mood. She must have known the end was coming. She was telling me stories and even decided to relive Grandpa’s last days. Half listening to the old stories, I nearly missed the new twist. About two months before his fall, Grandpa had been diagnosed with ALS. The combination of having to have his wife soon do everything for him and the complete poverty they were nearing started to eat away at him and his pride. Then, his life insurance agent called him. It turned out he had signed a twenty year term policy and not a whole life policy. His insurance would be up soon with none of the payments to be reimbursed.

Suddenly, Grandma’s life looked very different to me now. There was no letter, no conversation, or warning. However, she knew her husband, and his death seemed to tie up too many loose ends to be the accident it seemed. It is always difficult to hear something bad about someone, when they have been nearly idolized by everyone I know. Perhaps, Dad always knew what really happened. He often told me not to worship people. “At some point, you will find out they are not indeed perfect. You will have spent years trying to be just like someone, and then you will realize they are not all they seemed to be.” Except Grandma. I think she really is all she seems to be. She has lived through so much, but she still got her kicks sitting on the back porch picking off rabbits in the morning sun. I cannot truly eulogize her at her upcoming funeral. I know too much that no one else needs to know. I will tell a different story about her. I will keep Grandpa this great man in the past. I do not need that, but some family members might.