For the Ancestors
Glaring sunshine with knife-sharp wind, temperature of only 38F/3C. Margie conceded it was too cold for a walk. I took a couple of take-out lattes up to her place.
“So sweet of you,” she said, kissing my hand, “but between you and me, I’m done. I’m tired. I-I-I can hardly keep my eyes open. Why am I still here?”
I said genes, probably. Your ancestors. What do you think you got from your ancestors, Margie?
She leaned back, squinting her eyes with the effort to remember, coming up empty. “Who who who…who were my ancestors? Do you know?”
I offered Russia, Poland, Ukraine.
“Oh right, right.” Her history re-surfaced out of the fog. “The shtetls. Immigrants. My mother’s side cared about money because they didn’t have any. My father’s side, the Ludwigs, they didn’t care so much. They were kind. If they had a chicken bone, they’d break it in half and give half away. Laughter came easy to them.” She smiled with the pleasure of remembering.
I said you’re more like the Ludwigs. Like your father and his brother, Uncle Herman.
“Oh, Uncle Herman! What a wonderful guy. The Ludwigs were hard workers. Good people, but they died young. Uncle Herman, how I loved him. And my father, my god, I never knew a better man…I think he was in in in… his sixties? Is that right? How old am I?”
I said ninety-eight and a half.
“No wonder I’m tired. Did I, did I do anything useful with my life?”
I said oh yes, you were a social worker, you spent all your life helping people, and you reared three beautiful children, you wrote, you painted, you hiked and traveled the world, you were and you still are a great friend.
“Then these old people, what did you call them?”
Ancestors?
“Yeah, they should let me go. Just let me close my eyes and go. I think I did all they wanted me to do."
And from me: blushing thanks for all the hearts and stars on yesterday's blip. You are such a loving community, all cheering for the Glam Grandmas of the world. A number of those who left hearts are themselves Glam Grandmas (or Grandpas), and I thank you all.
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