Hey girls,
I have been thinking about your grandma a lot lately and how it is truly one of the most unfair things in life that you never got a chance to meet her. She would have adored you both.
Throughout my entire fight against this disease I struggle not to think of your Grandma and her struggle with the same disease. You should know that right when this all started I had a litany of genetic tests performed. I was incredibly worried that this could all be hereditary and my thoughts immediately went to you both. The results of those tests showed that it is not genetic, and while I would still recommend you both get checked early and often, you don’t need to live with this hanging over your head like it is a foregone conclusion.
I think often about my mom, Becky (she confided in your Aunt Paula near the end that she never actually liked the name, Becky. And that she really liked the name Grace. You can probably understand your cousin being named Grace, and Caroline, your middle name… and Moira we decided to give you my mom’s full first name as your middle name, Rebecca). I have a really hard time not constantly comparing what I knew about her struggle with cancer and my own. What her treatment was like. What her side-effects were like, and how she handled everything. It’s hard because I know how that story ended, with 15 year old me losing my mother. But it’s not all about me, you too were robbed of a chance to know one of the amazing humans to ever exist. My siblings were robbed of having her there for all of life’s major milestones. Papa was robbed of growing old with the woman he fell in love with when he was just graduating high school. And I’m sorry for all of that. I wish I could change it.
I wish I had more memories. Unfortunately a lot of my memories are of my mom being sick. A lot of still good memories, but here’s a photo from one of the truly fantastic times I remember:
That’s me and your grandma on a staircase down to the beach at a campground in Eastport Michigan (if my memory is wrong, ask Papa, he’ll fix it for you). We had a little pop-up camper that we towed behind a little pick-up truck. I used to love going camping with my parents. Making dinner over a campfire and roasting marshmallows with my parents are some of my favorite memories from my childhood. We would bring my bicycle and I would see how fast I could ride over the speed bumps in the campground. We didn’t take a lot of vacations when I was a kid. My parents didn’t necessarily have jobs that gave them a ton of time off, so our trips were generally on weekends or over major holidays (Memorial Day was an annual pilgrimage up north).
My mom had a few different jobs when I was a kid. One that I particularly remember was when she worked at a sewing shop in Middleville called Baby Bliss. From time to time she would bring me with her, I had to be like 3 or 4 years old, still cute. I would sit at her station in this dimly lit building where a bunch of women grabbed stacks of patterned materials out of big cloth bins and assembled them with speed. My mom would often give me coins to go to the candy dispenser at the front of the shop. There were three options in the dispenser that claimed that proceeds went to charities benefiting individuals with Muscular Dystrophy (I have a strong memory of a faded image on the dispenser of a young person in a wheelchair). You could choose from Peanut M&Ms, Runtz (don’t eat the banana ones), or Reese’s Pieces (which I always preferred). I would often go around and take orders and collect coins from the other ladies working and then deliver them their treats.
I’ll write a lot more about your Grandma, and maybe I’ll get Papa or Aunt Paula, or Uncle John to write an entry with some favorite memories.
I will leave you with a really silly memory: My mom was absolutely silly. She had a very solid sense of humor and was always cracking wise or teasing Papa in some way to get everyone to smile. She would walk up behind me and run her fingers through my hair and say, “Bill I’m taking Andy to the salon to get frosted tips” or “Bill which ear should we pierce for Andy? The Left? Oh let’s just pierce both”, knowing that my dad wouldn’t be comfortable with anything like that (she had no intention of doing any of that).
Comments