Omi and Medieval Times

Yesterday I went to Medieval Times and today I attended my grandmother's "celebration of life" which is like a funeral only more festive and cheery.  These two events are in no way related to each other.  One involved a fun excursion with a friend I haven't hung out with in a while (Hi Amy!) the other involved chatting with family members that I only see at weddings and "celebrations of life".  Are you reading my blog yet, Jodi? E-mail me!

I could bore you to death with an account of both of these but instead I will amuse myself my imagining what it would be like if my late Omi had attended Medieval Times with me.  

As we drove up she would have given each of my children a box of Smarties to make them smart.  She never knew my kids, but she would have loved them.  She loved all children, especially her grandkids. When we got into the buy stuff area, Omi would have bought William a sword and a shield and armour and anything else he was vaguely interested in, she would not have accepted our money for this.  In fact, she would try to shove a fist of twenties into my hand.

While we were watching the show, Omi would tell me how handsome she thought the Black and White Knight was.  He had short dark hair, and the other knights had long hair.  When he gave out flowers to random women in the audience, she would have called out "Woohoo!" until she got one. 

She would have denounced the violence as "silly" while at the same time happily cheering on our Black and White Knight. She would try to make me eat half of her chicken on top of my own, not taking no for an answer.  Failing that, she would wrap any extra food in napkins and shove it into her purse.

The Black and White Knight gave Jadzia a sash that said "Queen of Love and Beauty", but I'm pretty sure if Omi had been there she would have gotten the title.  She had a way of standing out in a crowd (partially to do with her tight low-cut leopard print tops) and she was always so full of love, and absolutely beautiful.

Adam just asked if I was writing about my grandmother, and if I was to be sure to mention the awesome pictures he printed for her celebration. He made three big boards full of pictures, two with black and whites and one with colour.  They looked beautiful against a black background, and each board rested on an easel he had borrowed from work.  It really made the room feel special.  For those of you who came and enjoyed my spaetzle the recipe is here.

A Final Goodbye

It's hard to say exactly when Omi left us.  When the picture above was taken, six years ago, she was already forgetting things. I would have lunch at her condo and she would tell me the same story three times. I've been trying to remember her stories as I write this.

She used to tell a version of how my parents met.  It went like this:  My dad wanted to play cards and my mom wanted to study, so my mom said "How about, first we study, then we play cards?" And they lived happily ever after.

Omi wanted to get married in a Catholic church, but when they went to see the priest my grandfather refused to sign something promising to raise their children Catholic.  According to my grandmother, Opa said "I don't even have any children yet and you want me to sell them to you!"

She told me how she met my grandfather in a dance class.  He was tall and handsome and, even though he wasn't paired with her at first, he only wanted to dance with her.

Just after World War II, when my grandmother was a teenager, she was attacked while bringing food to her father in prison. After that, she sent her younger brother in without her. She often told me, "War brings out the worst in people."

She moved back in time, talking more and more about the past.  Eventually, I was too new for her to remember who I was.  Sometimes, she thought I was my mother.  Then she forgot her too.

When I was a kid, Omi used to sing "You are my sunshine" to me.  Yesterday, when we went to visit her for the last time, my Mom printed out the lyrics and we sang it to her.  I only really knew the cheerful chorus; the verses were depressingly appropriate.  I didn't imagine she could have looked worse than the last time I saw her, but she did.  Older, thinner, greyer.  As we sang, she briefly opened her eyes, then scrunched up her face as though she was in pain.

We knew that she was going to die soon, and finally this evening she did.  But the Omi I knew and loved died a long time ago.  There was no exact time and date of death.  She slipped away gradually through a slow leak in her mind.

Super Omi Turned 80 Today

And she has no idea.

My grandmother has had alzeimer's since before my kids were born.  When my husband and I were dating, she was already starting to forget and repeat things.  She used to flirt with the security guards in her building.  She cooked for me all the time.  She made liver and bacon, homemade schnitzel and spätzle, rouladen. She always made you eat too much, never taking no for an answer.  She told everyone I was her favourite granddaughter, and bragged that I "sang like an angel", even though I only ever sang along to the radio.  She cheated at rummikube. We would laugh together, talk about music, and men, and the world. She would give me a quarter if I got a question right on jeopardy before the contestants did.  I was her smart cookie.

Omi has always loved kids, so my Mom thought that she might respond if I brought my kids in to see their great grandmother. It wasn't a party, nor even a celebration, only an attempt at giving Super Omi one last happy moment.  We stopped at Tim Horton's on the way and bought timbits for us and a yogurt for Omi.  Mom entered the combination to unlock the door and we saw her sitting in the hall.  She was sleeping in what my Mom calls her lazy-boy wheelchair. Her body looked thin and slumped, her skin pale. Her grey hair was combed straight.  Her bare feet were wrapped in white pillow-type things.  Her toenails were yellow.  She opened her eyes briefly, but didn't really look at any of us.   We wheeled her into the small courtyard and sang her happy birthday. 

We ate timbits and played catch with a football we brought with us.  At one moment, a woman walked across the courtyard, ripped a vine out of the garden and dragged it inside, leaving a trail of dirt on the floor.  We chatted with William about life and death and what Super Omi used to be like, then we left her and went to the waterfront and enjoyed the splashpad.  In the end we had a pretty nice day.