Grandmother…let me tell you about her.
She was always financially poor, but always rich in compassion and love. The jobs she held were never glorious or well paying—all of them involved serving others. First and foremost, she was a mother and wife. A position she took very seriously—she always did what she had to do to take care of her family. My grandfather was a laborer or truck driver most of his life, so my grandmother had to work to help put food on the table. No job was beneath her—she did not bat an eye when a relative offered to “allow” her to wash and iron her clothes for a little money. She did it without complaining and I am sure there was not a wrinkle to be found in those clothes. You see, everything she did, she did well. Every one of her actions was done for a reason and she put great pride into accomplishing every task—big or small.
She was always in control of the situation—no matter where she was—she was the person people looked to for direction. Her last “real” job was, of course, serving others. She bartended in a veterans bar in exchange for rent in a small trailer. She was as tough as nails—only 4’10” and barely able to see over the bar, but able to keep a rowdy bunch of drunk veterans not only happy, but relatively well behaved. How many of you could do that?
When she moved into the Veteran’s Home with my grandfather, she became the corporal of the unit. She made sure the people on the floor who could not take care of themselves, had everything they needed. I can see her marching down the hall to collect mail—it was if she was taking hamburger hill all by herself. Nothing got in her way and the duty of mail call was as important as serving as president of the United States.
At the Veterans Home, she worked in the craft room helping those with disabilities—holding their hand steady so they could paint or threading a needle for them. She continuously made crafts to help make money for veterans in need. She distributed videos to those who were unable to leave their room. If you walked into a room and there was no chair, it was my grandmother who stood—not you. She dialed the phone for those who could no longer see the numbers. She pushed people’s wheelchairs and always held the elevator for the next person. She served food to those who could not get their own tray and carefully fed those who could no longer manage a fork or spoon. If somebody dropped something, it was my grandmother who picked it up. And, one of the more important positions she held was the number caller—she yelled bingo numbers (when really, I think, she wanted to be yelling “bingo” herself). But, that was my grandmother—always serving others.
My grandmother was the most altruistic person I have ever known. It is her I look to when I am in need of a positive role model—or when I suddenly find myself being selfish. I think of her and I remember that serving others is an honor that should be done with all the gusto I can manage. One of the most important things in life is the love we can give humanity by doing all the little things that people can not do for themselves. I realize there is so much more I should write—my grandmother did so much for others—this post does little justice to describe the servant she truly was.
I have called her grandmother out of respect. But, to me, she was grandma. My sweet, little grandma that looked up to me with shining, loving eyes…that always let me know I was important and that she was proud of me. I did not meet her until I was a teenager, but the loving bond we developed was strong. She has my love and respect, not just because she is my blood, but because she has earned every bit of it. I love you grandma.
