Today, December 10, 2018, my grandma, Annie Alena Gardiner Bullock would have turned 100 years old. She passed away in 1998 and I miss her. But I often feel like she is watching over me and my kids.
Grandma Annie was a fireball. She was a musician, a poet, a mother and a leader. She loved to laugh - at life and at herself. She loved the color red, Christmas, and fun shiny jewelry. But most of what I know about her energetic, enthusiastic life is from the memories of others. As a child, I usually only saw her during the summer when we would drive to Utah from California for our family vacation. I always felt loved and important when I was with her. But sadly, every year that we visited, she had lost a little bit of her strength, speed and mobility. The legendary fireball that I heard so much about was slowed down by Parkinson’s disease, until she basically depended on my grandpa for everything. But the worst part was that her mind was still on fire! That lady never lost her wit! Her biting sarcastic sense of humor was delightful. And the love and light in her eyes was bright.
As I reflect today on my Grandma Annie, my heart swells with pride that I am related to this magnificent woman. And I wish that I could have been a part of her life when she was at her peak! So many things about her remind me of me. I think we would have had a wonderful time putting together musical productions side by side, wearing red dresses and laughing. My heart aches as I imagine what it was like for her to be so alive mentally but trapped in a body that would no longer do what she wanted it to.
I recently read an article titled “Managing Stress As A College Student”. Here is a part that reminds me of Grandma Annie (and me:)
Dr. Selye suggests that some people have a "race horse" life-style and seem to thrive on intense activity while others prefer a "turtle" life-style and function best when their activity level is not intense. Trying to adopt a "turtle" life-style when we really prefer a "race horse" life-style, or vice-a-versa, can be stressful. An example of this concept was illustrated when a medical doctor told a "race horse" patient, who had just been diagnosed as having high blood pressure, to go home and take it easy. He told her to slow down and do more things like reading and handiwork. She tried this program for two weeks and told the doctor she was going crazy. The change from the "race horse" to the "turtle" life-style actually increased, rather than decreased, her blood pressure. After talking with the doctor, she adopted a moderate "race horse" level and consequently reduced her blood pressure as well as her stressful feelings.
Understanding this “racehorse” part of my personality and recognizing it in my Grandma, I can’t even begin to imagine how frustrating it must have been for her to lose her independence. Actually, I should rephrase that, I CAN imagine - it must have been a nightmare. This strong-willing, dynamic woman, was now at the mercy of a withering body. She spent most of her day in her reclining chair in the front room. Each year, her body curled in more and more on itself until she watched the world sideways. She needed help walking, dressing, eating, and with personal hygiene. Grandpa would process most of her food so it resembled the texture of baby food. I thought it was wonderful that Grandpa arranged for a friend to come in every week and do Grandma’s hair. She would set it in rollers and Grandma would sit under a big old fashioned hair dryer like in the beauty salons. I’m sure this helped Grandma maintain some joy, pride and dignity. After all, in her fireball days, she had owned her own salon, Annie’s Hair Salon in Pleasant Grove. But now, the highlight of the day was when the Price is Right came on. OR whenever family or friends would visit. Then she really lit up with love and pride.
In 1994, I had the privilege to move in to my grandparent’s basement apartment while I attended Brigham Young University. I continued to live there after I was married and even while I had my first children. So, I became an extra caretaker to Grandma Annie in her final years. For a few years, I would spend mornings sitting with Grandma while Grandpa spent some time running errands or serving in the Provo Temple. Some of these mornings were rough because I had my own little baby (or two) who needed feeding, changing, and attention, but Grandma also needed all of the same help. And sometimes, none of them were very cooperative. Even though she was weak, sometimes she’d grow impatient and try to stand and get to the bathroom on her own with her walker - which was very dangerous! So, I’d juggle the baby and toddler and try to make sure that they would be safe while I went to help Grandma in the bathroom. My life was filled with a lot of other people’s bodily fluids at that time. And as disgusting as that is, there is a certain level of divine privilege that you feel when you are entrusted to meet the needs of a another human. And there was a quiet, deeply humbling dignity expressed by that beautiful woman as she submitted to the help that she needed. I was dealing with life and death in all of it’s messiness side by side. And I still feel the sweet fatigue and love from that sacred job. The life-guarding service we give to infants and aging loved ones bonds you to them in unbreakable ways. And I felt that coming in to this world and going out had many similarities. We often return to a helpless state where we depend on someone for our every need. Patience and tender care are required from our loved ones at the beginning and the end of our lives.
In early December 1998 we knew Annie was dying. And as unusual as it sounds, waiting for her to pass felt almost exactly the same as being in labor. Perhaps it was because I had so recently given birth that I recognized the similarities. I’m so glad that my little Anna Lynn got to spend the first eight months of her life here on earth with the angel she was named after. In her final hours, Annie became unresponsive and her breathing was deep and rattled. We waited with her all day, knowing we wouldn’t have her much longer. As night came, Grandpa sent us downstairs to sleep. When we woke up the next morning she had peacefully passed. Even though her body was still in that old reclining chair, the room felt empty. Her beautiful, bright and strong spirit was no longer with us. Birth and death are holy experiences. The world is changed in a moment. When a baby is born, there is suddenly LIFE! Loud, messy, chaotic LIFE! But here on earth, when someone dies, it is painfully quiet. In that moment, and forever after when you wish you could visit or call and hear their voice again, it is quiet. But in birth and death, the world is changed forever in a moment. But as I believe in life after death, I like to imagine that perhaps as those sweet souls pass out of our earthly view, their entrance to the next world if full of LIFE! Sweet, joyful reunions that are loud and chaotic with heavenly tears.
One thing I have learned from my Grandma Annie, and my Grandmother Irene and all of the wonderful people I have known who happen to be older than me, is that the spirit doesn’t really get old. When I was 18 and my Grandmother Irene was 67, she told me that she still felt like an 18-year-old on the inside. That surprised me then, but I am wiser (and closer to 67) now. Sometimes we count out our “senior” friends and don’t include them in activities when what they need most is to keep living with us. Of course it’s nice to take cookies to an elderly neighbor, but you know what’s even better - invite that older friend over to your house to make cookies WITH you. When you start talking to our older friends, family and neighbors you realize they have a vast world of knowledge and experience that is still very much alive in their minds. Their bodies might not be as spry as they used to be, but they have so much to offer the world. Unfortunately, many seniors experience terrible loneliness and depression. I urge us all to make more time to include these members of our community into our daily lives. Find out what profession or travels or hobbies your senior friends enjoyed when they were younger and ask them to teach you and your children about it. You will do something thinking you are helping and serving an elderly person, but you will realize they are actually giving you way more than you have given.
Life is precious, whether it is found in a 7-pound, soft and warm body that smells like baby shampoo, or when it is found in a wrinkled, twisted body that smells like (well, we won’t go there…) Life is precious. So Happy Birthday Grandma Annie! I love you. You were named for your two grandmas: Annie Nichols and Annie Jones. My mother, daughter and I all carry you with us in our names: Mary Anne, Genevieve Anne, and Anna Lynn. I am so humbled to be a part of this strong chain of women who are full of life and love. I know there is celebrating on both sides of the veil today.
Today I will wear my Silver Bells bracelet and sing Christmas carols and wear red to honor and remember you. And I will cherish the people around me and look for their value and seek their contributions no matter how old or young they are. We all have something to give. And sometimes, our greatest gift can be letting others serve us. Thank you for giving me that gift as a young mother. As hard as it must have been for you to let me help you, it was a gift I will always cherish. And I know that you are continuing to serve our family as you watch over us from Heaven. We all love you and can’t wait to laugh and sing with you again.
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