A Great Grandmother

My mom has one of those really big photo albums from the 70s with the hundreds of pages, gold accents on a pearlized hardcover, clear plastic vinyl and sticky pages, large metal binder-style rings. You had to take the plastic from the sticky pages apart and put the pictures inside. The photo albums were so heavy that I'm sure they were a hazard to have in the house. Those albums were kept stashed away.

A few of the photo albums are dedicated to pictures of me as a kid - I'm an only child so I was the subject most of the time. I used to look at the pictures in the albums a lot. It was great to relive the vacations with aunts and uncles, the holidays with cousins, the summer days with neighbors and friends. I especially like looking at pictures when I was a baby - most of which included my grandmother.

One of the most memorable pictures I had was with my grandmother giving me a bath.

My grandmother and I have always been very close. I can't put into words how much she was a part of my life since I was young. Caregiver, baby sitter, role model, teacher, therapist, confidant, accomplice, companion, nurse, best friend, chauffeur, daycare-pickuper, booboo-kisser, overall-everything. We used to spend a lot of time together. She took care of me.

About 10 years ago she moved back to the West Indies for health reasons. Her arthritis, food allergies, back problems made living in Toronto's cold winters too difficult. When her job with a bank became redundant and early retirement was offered, her physician suggested that was the perfect time to make the move. Most years, she comes up to Toronto for the summer and returns to the West Indies before it gets too cold. Sometimes she avoids the hassle and doesn't come.

My grandmother bought a ticket back to Toronto in time for BABY's birth. She wanted to be here. I wanted her here. There was no else that I wanted to share this summer with more than her. She was at the hospital when I had BABY - at times walking the halls with me, rubbing my back to relieve my contractions, holding my hand when I needed it. At 2:00 am she was holding my little girl in her arms. I cried. My daughter is her 10th Great Grandchild.

This summer we spent a lot of time together. When I brought BABY home from the hospital, my grandmother was looking over my shoulder as I gave her first bath. Just like the picture that I remember looking at in my mother's albums.

Her flight left on Friday. I brought BABY to say goodbye. My grandmother kissed her forehead, called her Princess and hugged her. BABY smiled. When my Grandmother comes back next year - God willing - my daughter will a year old. She will be older, different. She will be waddling instead of just reaching.

Over the last few months I have begun my own extra large photo album. It might not be like the 70s version that my mom had. There are no sticky pages or plastic, or metal rings or hard covers. But there are lots of pictures of my grandmother.




~ humps