My Grams

I wrote this for one of my classes this past semester
Grams, Memere, My Grandmother by Richard Louissaint

My grandmother, the one on my mother’s side; the one who helped bring me up as a child; the one who at this very moment could be legally blind. When I left her this morning she was eating her breakfast in silence or was waiting by the door for her aide that comes 6 days a week for four hours. Either way, I shouted bye to her and she asked who it was (because my father and I have similar voices) and as always, I said, “it’s me Richard”, in kreyol.

I know that she is somewhere in her 80’s and that at anytime during the decline of her eyesight she could have taken the suggestion of her doctors and gotten surgery to fix it. But she said the medicine she was/is taking would cure her with the help of God. That cure has never happened and now we --me, mom, dad, aunt-- have been left with a very prideful woman who we have fought to accept our help and who has found it hard to come to grips with her mortality.

I have found her sitting on the living floor on one or two occasions, strategically right by the front door. I laugh it off and pick her up when I have found her there. But this action tests my mother, as does anything my Memere does that is very suspect. I guess it’s hard to ignore the woman who brought you into this world and raised you.

I thank graduate school for keeping me out the house, not because it depresses me but Memere loves to talk; always has. Center of attention is one of her claims to fame. She can light up a room or bring it down with the most random negative news item she has heard or been told about.

However, this isn’t about exposing all of my Memere’s faults. Maybe this is a rant or I am thinking her mortality and how she will die someday.

My mother, one day last year, told me, out of the blue, “You know you will be giving her eulogy; you grew up with her.” I responded in silence and later pondered what would I say that large audience that her funeral would bring. If there is one thing I am sure of she was a popular woman especially in her church ministries.

At first I figured I would let them know she wasn’t perfect, then I would jokingly mention how she would ramble on about something in the news in the middle of a laughter-filled conversation, and i woulld hope the audience would laugh. Then I would tell them how I wish she enjoyed her older age like so many I have met who look back in the past as just the past and live in the now. But I blanked out after that and haven’t thought of it much since until I began this thing you are reading right now.

Right now I wonder how long my parents and my aunt can keep it up – taking care of Grams with all her stubbornness and quirks; and will she see the inside of a home? I would hate to see that day especially In a West Indan family where the elderly are rarely sent away. I sense despite her declining natural health, her hearty complaints and her mood swings, Memere will be here for years to come.