Grandma Ruby

When I was in third grade, we wrote and illustrated our own books. We were able to draw our illustrations and write the story right into the hard-bound book. I remember it being a crazy long process full of editing, planning, and more editing. When the books were complete, our teacher hosted an open house for all our parents and loved ones to come see the wonderful third grade creations. I remember mine was called "Kellie and Other Stories". It was a Cinderella-type story about a girl named Kellie and her ever changing relationship with her step-father. My book also included poetry and other short stories. 

As one can imagine, my book was about as well written as any third-graders book could be. I recall finding my book as an adult and wondering how in the world my parents or teachers didn't think I needed counseling! I mean, this princess Kellie had a terrible qualm with her step-father and then he dies at the end! (And incase someone out there would like to offer insight on this, I did, for the record, have a difficult time accepting my dads marriage to my mom in third grade and I had an insanely unhealthy fear that someone close to me would die...)

I absolutely know by heart one of the poems in my little book. It was entitled; "Glue". 

Glue is magic. It is neat. 

It's not something good to eat. 

It might be fun to suck your thumb, 

But when it comes to glue...

You should never eat glue. 

Because it's not good to do.

So you should never eat glue. 

My book was crap. It was plain, downright, unoriginal, elementary crap. (As it should have been...I mean, come on, I was in third grade!) I don't really remember my parents saying anything positive or negative about the experience, I was just always expected to do well in school, as I did. My grandmother, however, that was a whole nother story! 

I can vividly remember my grandmother calling publishers to try and get my book published! My book! Published! I remember being SO excited about this possibility and taking tremendous pride in my work. She believed in that little terrible book so much. And was incredibly passionate about making sure I was successful in my writing. 

Soon after the whole hard-bound book project, Grandma Ruby gave me a five subject (!) spiral notebook. Now you need a bit of backstory to fully understand the significance of this small gift...

Grandma Ruby was in no way rich. In fact, she spent most of her life on the furthest end of that spectrum. Her parents grew up during the Great Depression, and learning to economize and do the best with what you had was just part of their lifestyle. This, among many other "old school" philosophies, was enriched into my grandmother. 

After raising seven children (a great deal of the time by herself) and working odd jobs, Grandma Ruby didn't just waltz into Wal-Mart or Sears with no set budget or agenda, much less buy things with no purpose right then (unless they were ridiculously cheap, but we can talk about that later!). It's hard to imagine Grandma Ruby ever buying anything for herself or anything that in any way stated excess. 

So for me to get a FIVE subject spiral notebook, an honest to goodness splurge compared to the 70 page single subject on the same shelf, this was really and sincerely a special gift. In this notebook, Grandma encouraged me to write every day. To practice my craft. To journal or diary if that's what I wanted to call it. She didn't care, she just told me to write. And so I did.

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Today I took the girls to visit Grandma Ruby. I was really quite scared to walk through her red painted door, because I wasn't sure I could handle what I would see. 

Grandma Ruby has recently been diagnosed with cancer. At first we thought it was localized in her rectum, but after seeing a doctor, it's evident that this disease is everywhere. Her frail tiny body is slowly being consumed by the thing that will ultimately take her life. 

But I obviously had to visit. And I wanted to. And I wanted her to see and meet Liza. And I needed to know for myself too just what kind of shape she was in. 

So in we walked...

And she smiled. And laughed. And coo-ed all over my sweet girls. And kissed. And was just her plain ole perfect Grandma Ruby! 

Her house is different...there is this eery joy present. Kind of like, don't be sad, for when I leave I get to be with Joe and Granny and Jesus. And she doesn't have a couch anymore...that got upgraded to a hospital grade air bed. She loves it as it's super comfy! The biggest positive change in the house? It doesn't smell like smoke :) For whatever reason, Grandma Ruby hasn't smoked in over two weeks after smoking for sixty years! Praise God! 

I was afraid that her pain medication from Hospice would have taken over her mind and she would be out of the loop, but nope, this little lady was just her normal self! All she was missing was her coffee cup and cigarette. She went about the day telling me stories about when her kids were young, stories from when I was little, and how comforted we both were by her house. 

Overall, it was the absolute best possible way I could have imagined spending today. It made me think of the woman she is, the woman I want to become, and to live life fearlessly and without abandon. 

Grandma Ruby has taught me so much in my short life. Way too much to write about in just one post. And while I might not have that five subject spiral notebook anymore, I promise, Grandma Ruby, I will continue to write.