Thursday, December 07, 2000
Finite Games Can Be Won.
But Life Is An Infinite Game
This was my fortune today in a fortune cookie I had for lunch, and it's sadly appropriate for the day. My grandmother, Harriet Lee, passed away this morning. She had been ill with Alzheimer's for quite some time, so she hadn't been herself for a long time, and it was more her shell that was walking around than anything else. So there are always mixed emotions at a time like this; sadness because you lose a part of your past, but also the comfort that a long, uncomfortable, unpleasant struggle is now over, and she's free from the struggles of this life.
I only got to the nursing home a couple of times while she was there; she was far enough away that it was a trek out there. One of my last memories of her was checking out the various birds that were near the chapel at the nursing home; where she would, like a child, find them as new discovery. She would have to be told who I was, of course, and that made it all the more difficult to go there.
There are many stories I could give at a time like this -- growing up, the big holidays at my grandparents, and she would go to great trouble in cooking up all of the food. She would make the most amazing, complicated cakes for birthdays, ones that probably needed an engineering degree to fully understand. The times when I'd brought my friends out to my grandparents to go sailing on Lake Pepin, and she'd make everyone feel welcome. Growing up, the times when she would help teach me and my friends.
Thanks, Grandma. I always knew that you loved me, even when you couldn't tell me anymore.
But Life Is An Infinite Game
This was my fortune today in a fortune cookie I had for lunch, and it's sadly appropriate for the day. My grandmother, Harriet Lee, passed away this morning. She had been ill with Alzheimer's for quite some time, so she hadn't been herself for a long time, and it was more her shell that was walking around than anything else. So there are always mixed emotions at a time like this; sadness because you lose a part of your past, but also the comfort that a long, uncomfortable, unpleasant struggle is now over, and she's free from the struggles of this life.
I only got to the nursing home a couple of times while she was there; she was far enough away that it was a trek out there. One of my last memories of her was checking out the various birds that were near the chapel at the nursing home; where she would, like a child, find them as new discovery. She would have to be told who I was, of course, and that made it all the more difficult to go there.
There are many stories I could give at a time like this -- growing up, the big holidays at my grandparents, and she would go to great trouble in cooking up all of the food. She would make the most amazing, complicated cakes for birthdays, ones that probably needed an engineering degree to fully understand. The times when I'd brought my friends out to my grandparents to go sailing on Lake Pepin, and she'd make everyone feel welcome. Growing up, the times when she would help teach me and my friends.
Thanks, Grandma. I always knew that you loved me, even when you couldn't tell me anymore.
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