It did not occur to me until I was an adult that not everybody grew up with baby chipmunks sleeping a shoe box on a shelf by the fireplace or eating breakfast with a baby hummingbird complete with nest in a cottage cheese carton on the dining room table while the mama bird buzzed the window awaiting the tempeture to become warm enough that her baby could be transfered to the outside window ledge for feeding. For me this was just a regular day.
For what ever reason they had when the wild things got into trouble they showed up at our house looking for my grandmother. It didn't make her particularly happy, but she never failed them.
Last summer at the age of 90 after a life time of being totally healthy my grandmother had a stroke. It was as if someone took her etch-a-sketch and shook it leaving a blank screen. When all was said and done her mind was intact but her basic skills were gone.
Because she has always been sweet and kind there were those that believed she would never bounce back. The pressure, from some members of her own family, old friends and even a doctor or two, to lock her up in a nursing home was great. Suddenly she was to be told what to do to, her feeling, wishes, and her deep desire to return to her little house by the water were no longer to matter, in some peoples eyes she had ceased to be a person and become a thing to be shuttled to wherever was convienient for others lives. All I heard about was safety, it seems quality of life, her happiness, the pleasure of her remaining years should not even be considered. To say I took rather viscous exception to that idea would be a massive understatement.
So what is life about? I have had to give it alot of thought over the last few months. In the end, what is it that is important to say we have lived a good life?
I suppose I was raised different than most but then not everybody had a great grandpa living up the hill that had spent his younger days making himself into a living legend. Not everybody had three old several times great aunts that, in the face of adversity, rose to fight the education system, city hall, or life itself against all odds and against all detractors only to win the day. I was raised that life is about taking risks and rising to the occasion doing what it takes to get the job done. Pursuing dreams and goals even if nobody thinks that you can, or will ever succeed. She taught me that.
If I had forgotten that, my grandmothers personsal fight to regain her independence has reminded me just exactly what life is about. She has retaught herself to do almost everything again. She, once again, is living on her own terms. That long line of tough women from the prairies of South Dakota would be proud of the true metal she has shown. Under that kind and gentle exterior is a spine of pure stainless steel.
As is my habit each night I give her a call right before dinner. Tonight she told me there was a hummingbird buzzing the dining room window. After mentioning a few times what a brainless little critter it was not to be wintering where it was warm she told me she had put out juice for it and was thinking maybe she should open the door and let it into the back porch for the remainder of the winter.
If I had any lingering concerns about her recovery they vanished with the beat of those tiny wings. It seems she has taken the last step and returned to work.