I am named after my maternal grandmother, Carrie Wood. She was considered “Big Carrie” and I
was “Little Keri” until I grew to be the taller between the two of us. October 30th would have been my grandma’s
birthday. Recently, I served as the honorary chairperson of a local Alzheimer's walk where I had the opportunity to pay tribute to Grandma Carrie. When I think of her, I think of Christmas and the stacks
of large coffee cans she would have filled with different types of fancy
cookies. I think of the stollen she would make – a doughy bread-type coffeecake
fashioned into a large crescent, filled with candied fruit and frosted with
white icing. I think of Grandma’s beautifully decorated home that felt both
elegant and cozy. I think of the pressed flower note cards that she made. I
think of birthday cakes, holiday dinners and small, slender trays on which I
could place my breakfast to eat in the living room in front of Saturday morning
cartoons. I think of The Lawrence Welk Show and how much my grandparents had at
one time liked to dance. I think of fingernail polish, fashionable pantsuits
and Sanka coffee. I think of the card she wrote to me during a special time in
my life with a note of love and encouragement, a card that remains a precious
keepsake. I think of the slide shows that she and Grandpa would give to family
upon their return from camping trailer trips out west. I think of the times
around the kitchen table when Grandma, Mom and I would look at old family
pictures, touching each image lovingly and telling a story to bring those old
photos to life. My Grandma Carrie was a lovely woman with many gifts and many talents.
When I close my eyes, I can still see Grandma Carrie. As time went on, however, Grandma
changed. Her world got smaller and her
memory shorter. She got lost walking home from church one day. Keeping up with conversation
became harder. She withdrew. Eventually, when my grandfather’s health prevented
him from caring for her, Grandma Carrie moved to a nursing home. Before she died there, she didn’t know most
of our family members any longer, including my mom and my aunt. The lovely grandma
who once showed me how to hand-sew turned into a stranger who expressed her
frustrations of her illness by striking out. If only my grandparents had
had access to the types of support services available today to people with
Alzheimer’s and other dementias and their families and caregivers. Perhaps, the weight of the changes going on
in their lives would have been made lighter and their journey with the disease not
so long and lonely. This month, I will carry the
memory of Grandma Carrie close to my heart, for although the ending felt bitter,
my memories of the lady I loved as Grandma Carrie are forever sweet.
