Grandma, Cookies, and Peanutbutter Loaf

Moments after Lydia woke me for her third early morning feeding, my phone rang. I instantly knew something was wrong. No one calls a new mommy before 7:00 AM without news, bad news. It was my mom, teary, letting me know that my grandmother had passed away in the night. She was 93.

Anita Heytz Brunt, or Nita, as my grandfather called her, lived to care for those around her. If you knocked on her door, stranger or friend, she would offer you a meal and a place to sit; usually the chair she was sitting in. As a kid, I always found that odd; why would Grandma offer me her chair when there are four perfectly good places to sit right here in the room? She offered her seat because she loved to give.

When I visited Grandma & Grandpa's house, there were certain things I could count on. Of those things were canned peaches & applesauce, chocolate chip cookies, and during the holidays, peanut butter loaf. One might assume the peanut butter loaf would be the lowest on my list of favorites, but that would be incorrect.

A year and a half ago, when Grandpa passed, and Grandma's dementia no longer allowed her to care for herself, she moved into a memory care facility. While clearing out their house, my mom asked me if there were any things I might want to have of G&G's. Strangely, the only things I could think of were canned fruit, cookies, and delicious peanut butter loaf. Not exactly keep sakes.

My grandparents retired in Walla Walla Washington, where I attended college. They lived about a mile from campus. When I was in the mood for peaches, cookies, and grahm crackers, I would walk to their house. Grandma always kept the best grahm crackers, coated with cinnamon & sugar; she knew they were my favorite. Sometimes I would mow the lawn or change light bulbs. It was nice feeling useful.

Within a few years, I lived just several blocks away. I didn't make it to their house nearly as much as I should have. Most of my "visits" were in the middle of the night. When hearing an ambulance race through our quiet neighborhood, I would jump out of bed for a quick run or drive to make sure the lights were not stopping at their house. I could sleep once I knew they were sleeping safe & sound.

Even after moving to the nursing home, Grandma was always thrilled to see her great grandbabies. Without fail, she would offer babysitting services and ask if we were hungry. Even in those later stages of her failing memory, she longed to take care of others, even when she no longer recognized us as her family.

In saying goodbye to my grandmother, my feelings of sadness are greatly for my mother. No matter how old or how forgetful, the death of a parent is still exactly that, a great loss. The people that once cared for every need, fed, consoled, and nurtured you are now gone.

My mind flashed forward, and I realize that this leaves my generation next in line to have aging parents. This is a reality I am not yet ready to face. For the time being, I will enjoy the youth and strength of my parents, of Josh's parents, and enjoy the many years we have a head of us. I will revel in the bonds formed between my children their grandparents.

Grandma Brunt, rest well. You lived a good long life taking care of the ones you loved. You will be missed.