GRANDMA

Not much longer in this world. Grandpa’s callin’. Body is so tired. Tired heart beating what’s left of life. Daughter of a blind father and an orphan mother. Nurse says it could be anytime now.
My oldest son and I head out early Saturday morning. All of 6 with long hair and guitar in tow. I bring a cedar flute but not sure if I’ll play. Lil’ Wade is set on playing 3 songs for her “because the doctors don’t know if she was going to live the rest of her life.”
Such a strong woman. Morning finds her sitting up in a chair, dressed for the day with beautiful silver hair laying in a soft silken braid. Her smile chases any brooding or sympathy from the room and sets the stage for memories of gold.
I take a close up shot of Lil’ Wade’s 6 year old hand holding gently to her’s of 87 years. He surprises her with youthful talent as little fingers dance and sing the fretboard, a song for a tired but warm heart.
We talk of her early years. From a country girl to a teenage maid in Milwaukee, scrubbing, cleaning, and baking for a retired dentist. Nights were for blowing the harmonica, going to the movies, parties, and catching a glimpse of the German theatre. Married a jack-of-all; trapper, storyteller, logger, musician, and farmer. Remembers more than books. Blessed with a memory that cuts through dates and times as if they warm butter spread on fresh homemade bread.
But pills keep sending clouds of sleep. My shoulder, a cloud for a weary head, catches her between her moments of waking and smiling. Words are not strong enough for these moments, so silence stays gold and sleep is beauty.
Lil’ Wade tells me to play my native flute for her as she becomes fully awake. Amazing Grace never blew through these lips but now weaves rich harmonics through a cedar cavern to caress hungry ears and feed the spirit. Peace and light blanket the room and warm our hearts as we smile our physical goodbyes.