I wanted that for her, too.
***
Three months before Grandma’s 100th birthday, she called me with a request.
“Kylie, could you come over Saturday? There’s something I’d like your help with.”
I was 32, lived 20 minutes away, and had visited Grandma every week for years.
I wanted that for her, too.
She was my favorite person to spend an afternoon with.
After my grandfather, Richard, died, she’d raised six young children alone. She worked two jobs, sometimes three, to keep the house they’d built together.
When grandchildren arrived, she helped raise us, too.
I spent afternoons with her while my parents worked.
But as everyone grew older, visits became rare.
I’d watched Grandma excuse her children’s absence for years.
She helped raise us, too.
That Saturday, she showed me six invitation cards.
“I’d like each of them to spend an afternoon with me before my birthday.”
“All six?”
“Separately. I want to hear about their lives without everyone rushing off.”
