From left to right:
Jen, Sonshine, my mom, my Darling Daughter,
Grandma in Denmark, and the Brown-Eyed Girl
My dear Grandma in Denmark was 98 years old. That bodes well for me.
On the other hand, Grandma had been in assisted living for a couple of decades and in the hospice wing of that facility for several years.
I got a message from my aunt a few weeks ago, who apparently keeps tabs on my grandma even though they aren't blood related. The aunt is my mom's half-sister on her dad's side. Grandma and my mom's dad divorced before I was born. Both my mom's parents remarried and had other children.
Anyway, my aunt must have visited Grandma every so often at least, and she was kind enough to send me periodic updates.
A few weeks ago she shared that my grandma had stopped eating and was in a lot of pain. I hope the hospice team was able to get that under control quickly and make her comfortable.
Yesterday I learned that Grandma has passed away.
For the last few weeks I’ve been living in that odd limbo, waiting for word—either that she was somehow feeling better, or that she had reached the end of a very long life.
You see, my grandma lived in Denmark. I hadn’t seen her in around twenty-eight years, when she last came to America to visit. Sonshine was three years old or so. (See picture above with a very young Jen!) I visited / lived with her and the man I called and considered Grandad in Denmark when I was in second grade, so we did have a real relationship once. But in the decades since, it’s mostly been through letters, me keeping her updated on my life.
As long-time readers know, sending letters to my grandma has been an ongoing goal—especially the last decade or so. Now you know why. I’m not sure if her son (my uncle) visited much, and I don’t know how often my aunt was able to stop by. Since my mom died a few years ago, I was the last contact she had with this line of the family.
My girls don’t really know her. The Brown-Eyed Girl “met” her when she was a year old and again when she was ten-ish. Darling Daughter was eight-ish and says she has no memories of that visit.
So while I’m sad she’s gone, the truth is the change to my everyday life will be small. Still, she was my grandma, and for many years we kept in touch the old-fashioned way—through letters crossing the ocean. I’m grateful we had that.
