Friday, May 26, 2000 in I Forgot To Pick A Category

Grandmas, wakes and water.

Side note:
We have a well. A dug well. Not drilled, dug. Some of it by hand. It is a good five feet deep and four feet across at the top, narrowing as it goes down. A lot of wells around here are the same way. There’s bedrock close to the surface here so drilling is not always the best choice. We have a bit of problems with it sometimes because we missed the actual spring or something. Over the years, when it dries up some in summer, we go in it and break up the rock on the bottom. It has a much better flow now.
Remember how I said we had such a nice visit with my grandparents? Well, Nanny called, apparently with a bone to pick. She’s British, so it was very, very subtle. Also she worries, partly because we’re not around on a regular basis for her to see that, yes, we can actually function without another grown-up telling us what to do.

The first thing practically out of her lips was “What about our water?” Well, what about it? I had no clue what she was getting at, either. I tried guessing by saying yes, we had now installed a filter and we had worked on the well so it runs better now. She meant in the bathroom. That’s all she said. So again I had to guess. There were two items in the house I had forgotten to clean, and sure enough she spotted them and chose to focus on that. The tray under the dish rack, you know how scummy they can get, and also the toilet. (DOH!)

After I got off the phone and vented to Wendy, she mentioned maybe my grandmother was worried because of this recent news story. Like that could happen here. First off, we have no public officials neglecting to sanitize our water supply. It’s more likely to happen to her than to us.

THEN she started worrying about the whole home schooling Addison again thingy. She had thought we were only *thinking* about it. I had to reiterate my whole spiel. It occurred to me after that maybe she had been talking to glenda, who has a B.Ed. that is unused, and is not supportive of our home schooling decision. She implies we are not qualified, of course.

Now that I was good and worked up, Ron and I got the news that the pastor’s mother of our old church had passed away. She was 93 and reminded me a lot of my own grandparents. Elderly people love me, I don’t know why. Maybe because I take the time to say hi or something. So we went to the wake, which was my first one. You would think since I have such an interest in coroner things I would have gone to a lot of funerals, but no. I tend to avoid places where people I care about are sick (like hospitals) or sad (like funerals).

We walked into the church, and there at the front of course, she was laid out in an open casket. Ron leans over to me and whispers “I don’t want to go up front.” Well, duh, neither do I. It was kind of freaky, the first time I had seen a dead body. We made the rounds with a lot of people saying how much they missed us. *Sigh* Make me feel even guiltier for leaving this church to help start up another one.

I hunted down a friend of mine, Sarah, who was about my age. It was her grandmother who had died, and I knew they were close. Part way through the conversation it got a little surreal. She was saying what a good job the mortician had done, except he had stretched her lips a little wide.

This got me to thinking of course, since funerals are wont to do that. I realized my own grandmother, who would not be with me long, was only trying to help. She does love me deeply, and I her. If… if… if only we lived closer, she would worry less. At least I hope it would be less and not more. If I’m lucky, she’s got another ten years left, even if she does expect to go any day know, so I should enjoy her as much as possible, despite her faults. That’s what love is, you know.