88 and going strong...

It's been a long week. On Sunday night, my mom called me pretty late--which is never good. She told me my 88 year old grandma had fallen and she had a fractured pelvis. She was in the hospital and in a lot of pain. My grandma, whom we call "Mom" is the only grandparent I really ever knew. I am her youngest grandchild of 7 and Bobby is her youngest great-grandchild of 14. My grandfather, her husband, died 2 years before I was born. My other grandparents, Mom-Mom and Pap-Pap died when I was very little and I have no memories of them. I have always been close to "Mom". She came and lived with us when I was about 6 years old. She stayed with us until the month before I got married--24 years later.
At 83 years old she decided to move to a senior-citizen apartment and be on her own. She flourished. The independence and her "own space" did wonders for her outlook on life. I usually go and visit every Sat. with Bobby. I was just there the day before the fall. She really loves Bobby and looks forward to our weekly visits. They have a routine and she really perks up when he is around.

Anyway, I was really upset and anxious to get in the hospital and see her. I went in after work on Monday. She was obviously in pain and I knew it would take her awhile to get back to her usual self, but she was as perky as she could be. After talking with her for a while, I knew she'd be just fine. In spite of everything she was going through, she managed to tell me that 1) I needed to dye my hair back to blonde because the brown was not a good color for me (even though it's now close to my natural shade) and 2) she told me that I didn't really need that piece of candy I was eating. Yep. She'll be just fine in no time. I hope when I'm her age I am as strong and feisty as she is...
Here we are together on my wedding day 6/26/04:
Keep up the hardwork at Therapy, Mom. I love you!