I call my Grandmother, Gram. Neither Gram or my Mother really taught me how to cook. But I remember my Gram had already cooked something, or was in the middle of cooking whenever I came to her home. Oh what funny things memories can do to a person...crying right now envisioning Gram in the kitchen.
I am 41 years old living with my husband and our dog in a country foreign to my birth. My Mom, Gram and family are back in Western New York. Gram is in a nursing home and has been there for some time now. She is slipping away from us mentally and physically.
My Mom called the other night and told me that Gram had been taken to the hospital and when weighed she was only weighed 97lbs--my Mom cried when she saw the number on the scale.
Mom has been a good daughter to Gram, she has taken her to doctor appointments, had her move in with her when Gram was scared to live by herself, loved her, cared for her as best as she could until she no longer could. Finally, reluctantly, she placed Gram in an assisted living place, for her safety and well being. After Gram had fallen too many times in assisted living, they would no longer allow her to stay - Gram had to move to a nursing home.
So as I write this, I am remembering both happy and sad times. This year is one of the very few that I will not have been home for the holidays.
Thanksgiving Memories:
When I was a little girl I remember going to Grams and being put to work with my cousin. Gram would have us rip up bread for the stuffing. That was done the day before so the bread could dry out. The day of the feast Gram would get up early. I remember the aroma of sauteed onions, celery, and sausage. The sausage had a strong sage smell. The bread my cousin and I had ripped up the day before was sitting in a metal bowl on the counter. Gram took the sauteed veggies and sausage (with all the drippings) and put it in the metal bowl with the bread and carefully mixed it by hand---we weren't allowed to help with this because it was much too hot for little fingers---than she would add eggs to the mixture until it was just the right texture---no measurements, by site, smell and feel - every time was a scientific experiment. When the stuffing was just right she put it all in a baking pan/s---Gram always made tons of stuffing in preparation for all the guests that would come over to eat with us.
Our family was small - there was Gram, Mom, Cousin Lisa, and Aunt Liz - but at the holidays the house would fill with friends and tons of chairs and plates and food. Gram would make sure everyone she knew had someplace for the holidays. Anyone who didn't, was invited and expected to be at her home to enjoy Thanksgiving. When I got older I knew it was acceptable to invite people, one year I invited a Russian and an East Indian friend, every year it was different.
On top of having many guests at dinner, Gram would make every ones favorite pie what ever it was--she usually made them herself. If she found out that you didn't like pie, she would find out what you liked instead and make it. I remember seeing 8 or more pies at some of those holidays. Some of the pies had been made weeks before and frozen, taken out and baked that day or the day before. There was pumpkin, apple, mince meat, rhubarb, custard....etc.
Boy do I miss Gram, but I pray that she has peace as her body and mind diminish.
