Another Layer of Love at the Very End

My Granna died on Tuesday.  Valentine's Day would have been her 89th birthday.

She began to suffer from congestive heart failure on January 31.  I was thankful to have received a call from my Uncle Randy after the nursing home contacted him that day.  I was blessed to have a husband who encouraged me to stay by her side for the last nine days of her life.  Keith even booked a hotel room for me in Thomaston (over my protestations about the budget and being absent from our home) so that I wouldn't have to drive long hours.  I was able to stay there, close-by, in case the nurses called with a change in Granna's condition during the night.

It is said that when you are born, you have your mother there to help you along; but that everyone dies alone.   That is certainly true.

Granna breathed her last while I was on the five-minute drive from the hotel to her nursing home.  But all of those days that she fought, I was beside her if she was scared or sad or hurting.
I come from strong and determined stock.  When she was born in 1927, she only weighed 2.5 pounds.  Her parents were afraid she wouldn't live the night, but they swaddled her up, placed her in a shoe box on top of their dresser, and prayed.

Growing up in the Depression, she walked to her country schoolhouse with nothing but a handful of parched corn or a piece of corn pone in her lunch pail.  But, she developed a love of learning that led her to a college degree, a career as a medical records technician,  and her passions for oil painting, photography and horticulture.

She expanded the universe of experiences for all of us in her family.  She touched all who knew her with her grace.


I baked two cakes today; a Five-Flavor Pound Cake (September 7) and a Chocolate Sour Cream Bundt (January 31).  I am taking them to the staff of the nursing home on my way down to Warm Springs tomorrow for the funeral.   I appreciate the care and affection they showed my grandmother, and their forgiveness each time I took some Saturday Cake to her without enough to go around.


I will be taking some time off from the blog to let all of the flavors of the last fifteen months sink-in.

February 14: A Birthday Cake for Granna

When I was in elementary school, my grandmother lived in Covington, Tennessee, north of Memphis.  Covington is a nine hour drive from Atlanta, so I only visited her house a couple of times each year.  The summer vacation after my tenth birthday was a milestone.  I took my first airplane ride - solo - to visit Granna for two weeks.  My parents and some friendly flight attendants delivered me to my seat in Atlanta.  I received Delta puzzle books, a Coke, peanuts, and pin-on pilot wings for me and my Paddington bear.  After the short flight, my grandparents were waiting for me on the gangway in Memphis and it was a fabulous adventure.  I got to go to Granna's for a couple of weeks every summer after that.

Some vacations she let me paint with her oils and canvases.  Sometimes we shopped all day in Memphis or tried new recipes at home.  Prior to my vacation at age twelve, Granna took a Wilton cake decorating class with her friends.  I recall that my entire vacation that year was spent cajoling my grandmother into teaching me cake decor tips.  We practiced making icing roses, scallops and ruffles on sheets of waxed paper while sitting together at her kitchen table.

Blowing out the candles

Today is Granna's birthday.  (She told me that she is 28-years-old today, which is a fib, because I am certainly only 29 and that math just doesn't work).  My uncle and aunt drove down from Covington for a surprise birthday party and Granna cried when she saw all of us there bearing cake and presents.  I made this Saturday Cake last night and I struggled to remember all of the decorating tricks Granna taught me.  I admit that my roses need a little more practice, but she was very happy and asked where we bought the cake!



Next Saturday:  Cherry Cake