A Broad In Costa Rica

Speaking of Letting Go

From the time I can remember, whenever you'd say, "Bye, bye, Granny Boo," she'd always answer, "Bye, bye, darlin'," in that southern Virginia accent. Every time. Even when I called her last summer at Little Sisters Of The Poor.

"Bye, bye, Granny Boo."
"Bye, bye, darlin'."

Rehoboth Beach was our family's beach and Granny Boo's favorite. We summered there, Aunt Gay had a beach house in Bethany, a couple miles down the road. In the 70's and 80's, when Mom was in her guest house years, she had one there: The Seagull at 20 Brooklyn Ave, now a single family home. This is the place I first learned about AIDS: most of mom's clientele were gay men from D.C. The early years were fun. SO fun. Later years were harder.

Mom is in Rehoboth now with her siblings, Gay and Tom. They are going to give Granny Boo's ashes back to the sea at 3pm. If you knew Granny Boo, you'd be certain this is where she came from. She enthusiastically approved the plan.

A friend gave this poem to me when my father died in '88. I'm certain Mom will read it today oceanside. It's by Henry Van Dyke (from what I can find online) and known by many names. We call it There She Comes. It says everything.

I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads
her white sails to the morning
breeze and starts for the blue
ocean. She is an object of beauty and 
strength and I watch her until at
length she hangs like a speck of white
cloud just where the sea and sky
come down to mingle with each other.
then someone at my side says
"There! She's gone."

Gone where? Gone from my sight - that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull
and spar as she was when she left my side,
and just as able to bear her load
of living freight to the place of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her;
and just at the moment when someone at my
side says,"There! She's gone," there are
other eyes watching her coming, and other
voices ready to take up the glad shout
"There she comes!"

Gone from my sight. That is all. Bye, bye, Granny Boo.

In My Dreams:

Jal, the boys and Mom and I drive to Washington, D.C. and get Granny Boo. We drive to the ocean. Ally, GB's nurse for the last 10 years, comes with us because we love her. In fact, all the siblings and grandchildren can join us in the dream - most of them live in the D.C. area. Except we'll get a babysitter for the littlest great-grandchildren. All that energy might be too chaotic. Besides, this dream is gettin' kinda full.

On the way to the ocean, we stop and pick up Granny Boo's favorite lunch, a fresh snapper, grilled with butter and lemon "Gad, what could possibly be bettah?"

We have canvas folding chairs and sit around in the surf. GB's wheelchair is just far enough into the water so she can feel the surf on her feet. Mo and Ryan are in the deepest water. Probably falling over, floating away, getting a little raucous... WAIT. This is my dream. OK, now they are calm and peaceful, quietly enjoying Granny Boo's enjoyment. [This could happen only in my dreams.]

And we hang out. Watching the horizon as the sun heads toward the yardarm behind us. Then GB and Jal, Mom, Ally, all who care to, enjoy a champagne cocktail. Or two. Later, as the sun disappears, we head back to D.C. while Granny Boo sleeps the whole way home. A perfect day.

March 25, 1910 - September 1, 2006
I wrote that early this morning as I was waking up. It's been percolating since yesterday. Mom just called to tell me Granny Boo died this morning at 6am. As Mom says, even though we all wanted it to happen, were ready for it to happen, now it seems so terribly abrupt.

My cousin Beth was with Granny Boo last night. She said it was awful, that GB looked ghastly and was quite agitated. But, then, after a while, she calmed down, became peaceful. Several of the nuns came into the room. They all settled around Granny Boo's bed and said all the things they loved about her. Beth was grateful to have been there, to have witnessed such a loving and quiet celebration. And because Beth was there, we know Granny Boo really did go peacefully.

Later this year, our family, even the littlest great-grandchildren, will get together in Rehoboth Beach, the beach town where we spent ALL our summers, where we owned the Seagull guesthouse in the 70's, where lies the beach Granny Boo loved the most, and sprinkle her ashes into the ocean. So.

"A brief candle; both ends burning
An endless mile; a bus wheel turning
A friend to share the lonesome times
A handshake and a sip of wine
So say it loud and let it ring
We are all a part of everything
The future, present and the past
Fly on proud bird
You're free at last."
    - Charlie Daniels

The Ugly Truth

OK, this is absurd. Granny Boo has started eating again. Great. She is ready to die, but her body just won't quit and is now demanding nourishment. The same miraculous modern medical machine that has kept Megan alive, given her more years with her family, will not allow Granny Boo to die.

My mom is holding up, but just barely. She said last night, Granny Boo was in such pain she yelled "Shoot me." Mom said "If I had a gun, mom, I would." Of course, she wouldn't. But this keeping GB alive past all desire and reason is no more God's will than shooting her would be.

Where the hell is Dr. Kavorkian when you need him? Oh right. He's in jail. For helping sane adults end their tragic lives. This DEFINITELY goes in my God what a world category. I'm starting one now.

Mom also asked Granny Boo if she could get anything for her. Granny Boo said, "Yes, a champagne cocktail." My vote is YES to that!

Mommy, Megan and Granny Boo

I'm not wanting to write about this because it's very very sad. Heartbreaking, really. I think it's why I haven't been good about blogging the past few days. This topic is sitting on top of everything else. That's death for you. It is achingly unpleasant. Especially long drawn out death. In my family, two people we love are pretty much waiting to die. Wish I had a good euphemism for that.

Hal's baby sister, Megan, 40, has been battling - and I do mean battling - breast cancer for over 8 years now. Hal wrote about Megan and the creep so beautifully after our visit with her and Hal's family over Christmas. She has three kids, Mariah 14, Eli 12 and Noah 9. And her dear husband, Ed. Megan told me that when they started cancer treatment lo these many years ago, there were 19 couples. Ed is the only husband man enough to go the distance. He's still got a ways to go, certainly, but no sign of an exit strategy. This is his life. God bless him.

Megan's had every treatment known to man except any by Don Candido, the Costa Rican herbal medicine man who I just heard about. If Megan makes it thru this hospital visit, I will bring her here to see him. We got a phone call two days ago and were told if we want to see Megan alive again, we should get to Utah asap.

Hal's mom, Joanie, and sister, Molly, are going. My heart breaks for Joanie and for Megan's kids. My single biggest fear is dying before my kids are old enough to survive without me. Like that will ever happen. (Them getting old enough to survive without me, I mean. Dying is inevitable. So far.)

We are not going. Hal's not sure Megan wants us all hanging around her bed watching her die, wasted away and unable to stop throwing up. I know I wouldn't want it. If this is truly It, we will remember her laughing and joking at the Disney World condo. Hard to believe that "unsinkable" energy could vanish from this earth.

I feel the same about Granny Boo. Although I truly think her energy has moved on to a better place. Is moving on, I guess. She is still with us, physically. She sleeps all the time, and has stopped eating. When a woman in my family stops eating, it's serious. I'm not kidding. She is still lucid. Her friend of many years, Tom Makepeace, was at her bedside the other day. He was there all day and they never said a word to each other, although he would chat occasionally. When he got up to leave, he leaned in close and said, "Bye, Granny Boo. I love you." She opened her eyes and said plain as day, "Bye bye, Tom." Then closed her eyes again.

I remember Granny Boo as bigger than life. I swear she'd walk into a room and the energy would go up a couple of notches. Bristling. I love that about her. I always will.

My mom is with her today. One of Mom's best friends, Gayle, drove up to Lexington from Atlanta, picked her up and drove her to Washington, D.C. so she could spend a couple of days with Granny Boo. What a loving and generous thing to do. You don't find friends like Gayle every day. I haven't talked to mom, but I will tonight or tomorrow morning. I'll keep you posted.

It's the oddest thing: two people dying. One you sorta wish God would move this along, release her for goodness sake. And the other you wish God would magically heal, let her live forever. She's paid her dues. Sorry - I know I'm not supposed to wish anything. But I do. It's driven by my need not to feel this lump. There is nothing to do but feel each painful little breath, to think of them pretty much all the time, send love and prayers.

I know this: having to watch someone you love fade away has got to be right up there in the list of life's little mysteries. Forever unsolved until you actually walk the walk. Do keep sending the white light. It is definitely being put to good use. Love, S.

Climbing the Stairway to Heaven

Sweet Jesus, it's a long haul. Granny Boo is ready, waiting. If she wasn't too tired to climb, she'd be taking the steps two at a time. She is lucid, as comfortable as possible. She is loved and being cared for. Certainly in no pain. There is nothing wrong with her but old age and a heart that is quitting EVER so slowly. It is very sad for us. And confusing. A lesson in not praying for anything but God's will. What would we pray for? We have everything but her death.

Isn't it ironic I'm busy doing all these tests to make sure Hal and I don't die anytime too soon and that our quality of life is good to the end. I'd much rather go as Granny Boo is going than almost any other way I can think of, besides in my sleep without the buildup.

"Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me.
The Carriage held but just ourselves. And Immortality."
                                          Emily Dickinson

Well, Granny Boo is at the curb. Waiting. Dear God...

Lipstick and the Joie de Vivre

In my family, it is a crime to be seen without lipstick. I resisted this notion most of my life. Silly rebel. I have since seen the light. When I was 32, I finally looked my mother right in the eye and said, "Mother, I'm a grown woman. [I really thought I was.] You may no longer tell me to put on my make-up. If I want to wear it, I will. If I don't, I won't. Now stop it."

She did understand. Whether I was really grown up or not, I was definitely too old for her to be telling me to put on my lipstick. So she stopped telling me to. She started just raising her eyebrows while staring at my bare lips everytime we got ready to leave the house. So annoying. I am not going to be that kind of mother.

Anyway, Mom is in Washington with Granny Boo. She got there yesterday morning just before the Rose Medley from Martha's Flowers arrived. They are by all accounts perfect in every way: just starting to open, smell delish, and look gorgeous: a mixture of reds, pinks and purples. Granny Boo says she can smell the flowers and she loves them. I knew she would. I am so happy about that.

GB is fading. What a word to describe such a force in my life. She's made a remarkable recovery in the last few days, but her heart is failing and she doesn't have all that much longer on this earth. Mom and Aunt Gay say she is angelic, so at peace. She cannot get out of bed and sleeps a lot. When she is awake, she wants to talk, is lucid and responsive. And she eats all her food. All the women in our family eat all our food. It's a curse any way you look at it.

So this morning, Mom was in the room, putting on her lipstick. Granny Boo looked over and said, "Give me some of that." That's my Granny Boo.

Granny Boo Update

Granny Boo has a very distinguished Southern accent. If Melanie Hamilton, Gone With The Wind's true heroine, were 96, she'd sound just like Granny Boo. Aunt Gay is there in Washington with her. Gay told us that when Granny Boo woke up this morning, she said, "Gad, am I still heah?"

My Granny Boo

The lady in red is Granny Boo. The date Christmas '02 at my house in Key West. The year we had the 8' tall candy-cane peace sign in our yard.

Granny Boo's real name is Nancy Tazewell (the 12th) Lee (my grandfather's name) Yakel (Aunt Gay's father's name and the only husband GB killed) Scott (Aunt Susie and Uncle Tom's father's name, GB's last husband. Who we believe died of natural causes.)

That's my mom and me with GB. Mom is GB's oldest daughter, real name Nancy Tazewell (the 13th) Lee (her dad’s name) Richardson (my dad's name, also dad to my two brothers and one sister) Sexton (my first stepfather) Richardson (she married dad a second time) Rutherford (my last stepfather's name.)

Actually, Charles is still my stepfather although he and my mom have not lived together for about 100 years. They are both afraid they'll get married again so they just stay married. This is logic Mo could really wrap his mind around.

Granny Boo was only 92 in that picture, a babe, game for anything. She had a blast that Christmas in Florida! She'd spent her adult life, after her kids were grown, in Ft. Lauderdale. She loves Florida, is a seafood fanatic, loves the ocean - everything about it. After she fell and broke her hip 10 years ago, she moved into Little Sisters of the Poor in Washington, D.C. They have taken incredibly loving care of her.

My grandmother has always been a bigger-than-life, dominant, passionate, woman. A strong woman. When she looks at you, she looks directly at you with those steely gray-blue eyes, like in this (terrible) photo from our visit to D.C. in 2000. You always know what Granny Boo is thinking. Because she tells you.

GB's 96th birthday was March 25th. Mom was there and told me later that, for the first time, GB looked smaller, a tad frail. Although we shouldn’t be surprised, we were. Frail has never been a word anyone would use to describe Granny Boo.

She's the kind of woman who does what needs to be done, gets on with it. She was a divorced working mother when it was anything but acceptable. But being married to a louse was unacceptable to her. She embarrassed my mother (who, by the way, was the May Queen at Greenbriar College in her day) by always being the youngest most fashionable mother at the PTA - a knockout. I guess that's where I get it.

She was pregnant with Gay when her second husband, a violent drunk, threatened to kill her when she threw him out. She called the police, they gave her a gun (boy, those were the good old days). Sure enough, the fool came back at 2 in the morning, staggering up the stairs, hollerin' his intentions. So she shot him. Dead.

You can see we got kind of a history in my family when it comes to our marriages. And to ending them. I like to remind Hal that we don't always divorce our husbands. It's really not a threat. Just a fact.

To escape the notoriety, GB moved mom, 5, and Gay, just born, to another town seeking a quiet existence. But one day for show and tell at her new school, mom shared the newspaper clippings, describing the scene in detail. Mom has a flair for the dramatic. I guess that's where I got that.

I could tell you so many stories about Granny Boo. Not all of them happy, her life was not an easy one. She is a remarkable woman. I'm grateful she's my Granny Boo and didn't get born into someone else's family.

Mom called tonight to tell me that GB’s heart is failing, she is on oxygen. If tests show she has pneumonia, the third time since January, this is likely It. If she does not have pneumonia... this is still likely It. But, with nothing to speed It along, It could drag out for quite sometime. With GB stuck in bed on oxygen 'til the Angels come. Yuck.

Granny Boo has been ready for It for years. Really since she lost her driver's license just before moving from Florida. Not being able to drive was It for GB. But if she'd kept her driver's license she'd definitely be dead by now and likely have taken a few surprised souls with her. Her driving there at the end was pretty terrifying. Hal says I drive like GB. That makes me happy somehow.

Her friends are dead, save for Ellen, 99, a childhood friend. How many people do you know live to be 96 AND have a childhood friend who is 99? I find that remarkable. In March, Mom took GB to visit Ellen and they had a fabulous time. Granny Boo's memory is a little faded, but Ellen remembers everything like it was yesterday. She told story after story. Mom and Granny Boo were enthralled, a most excellent birthday.

I don't want this to be It. But it's not up to me. Well, not totally. I've sent word to Granny Boo that, no matter what, she cannot die before Wednesday. I just spent $80 at Martha's Flowers and the Rose Medley won't be delivered till then. Granny Boo LOVES a nice big fat ole pot o' roses. I'm sure this will keep her alive. Pretty sure.

So we are waiting for news. I love that my boys know and love their Granny Boo. I appreciate that she's been with us long enough for me to be old, old enough to understand the enormous gift of having her with us for so long.

My friends always ask about her name: Granny Boo. I'll tell you. When she was a baby, everyone would say she was beautiful. She couldn't say be-yoo-ti-ful, she'd say boo-ti-ful... she's been Boo ever since.