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Tuesday, 22 February 05 ::
baba.
i'm anxiously awaiting news of the job i might have. i was supposed to hear this evening, but nothing has come across either the telephone wires, or the wireless internet in this house. since i've told so many people about the job, i probably didn't get it.. i jinxed it. i'm sure. thats why my friend hasn't called.
on another topic, 2 years ago today my grandmother died. my father's mother, also known has baba, also known has mary draper robertshaw.
2003. we were nearing the end of our protests. 8 days after the febraury 15 protests. the day before my birthday. less than a month later i heard myself commenting to my brother, born 19 march, 'i got baba's death, you got the start of the war.'
when life hits the fan, i got the thing that will go down in my history as being an event that will be remembered. if it weren't for the work of my fellow activists i would never remember that it was on my brother's 32nd birthday that we went to war, but i will forever remember that it was the day before my 30th birthday that my grandmother died.
she was a good woman. yeah, i know, all grandmothers are good women. but she was my good woman. she was short, big boobs. if she'd had blonde hair and blue eyes i would be her carbon copy. she loved me. everytime we were together she and i would go back to back to see if i'd caught up with her. all the other full grown grandchildren had surpassed her years ago, i never did.
she was the matriarch of a medium sized family. we were, my father and 3 of us, my aunt and 3 of her, my uncle and 4 of him, and the two of them. there were 15 of us, and then 3 steps and one, one td. we weren't large, but we were larger than mom's side. 6 of us, for 2 years, then 5, then 6, 5, 7 and now 6.
she was a good matriarch. she'd make bacon for the kids and scrapple for the adults in the mornings at wild rose shores. she always had little bottles of juice and soda. and breyer's mint chocolate chip ice cream. we had building blocks and a swing set. when i got old enough i got to sleep in my aunts old room, instead of with brother in the bottom bunk of the bunkbed.
they were happy together, the matriarch and the patriarch. they'd pick at each other, but we knew that they truly liked one another. when he died her concern was for her adult children.. 'your daddy is gone.' she said to her youngest who was sleeping in the bed next to her. she sat next to her oldest granddaughter during his funeral and shed barely a tear. she was tough, but we knew she loved him.
my mother, divorced from her son in the mid 70's.. when she became a grandmother less than a year ago said 'i will be called dede by my grandchild. i will be called dede after your grandmother baba.' thats the kind of person she was. the daughter she got by marriage was her daughter for life, no matter the marital bonds. and my mother knows it.
2 years ago she died. her number is still on my (now defunct) cell phone. i could never bring myself to erase her number. that would mean erasing her. i couldn't do that. she might be gone, but she isn't erased. no, she isn't erased. i will make sure the next generation knows her. she would have loved them like she loved us. with all her heart and mind, with all that she was. and i loved her, with all my heart and mind, with all that i am, and always will.
posted by brooke at February 22, 2005 09:28 PM
I feel your pain and loss. I lost my sister first, then my father and mother in the same year. I find that the wonderful memories I have of them carries me through my dark night of the soul.
I love birkenstocks, too. Even when I have court appearances, I wear my birks. Wouldn't have it any other way. *s*
Great blog site.
posted by: sapere aude at February 23, 2005 03:49 AM
posted by: JustLisa at February 23, 2005 08:38 AM
