Norma

I always felt uncomfortable walking into my grandparents’ house. I never knew what to say.

They were wonderful grandparents. They sat front row at every game and graduation. Our family had dinner at their house often, and on the weekends I would go to Barnes & Noble with Grandma.

For several years, she and I went to the midnight release and reading of the newest Harry Potter novel together, but I never told anyone.

I did these things out of obligation. I felt a responsibility to try and make my grandmother happy by painting ceramics and solving puzzles with her. It wasn’t until high school that I started to realize what our time together meant.

Grandma was in and out of nursing homes and hospitals for as long as I can remember. That was one thing that never changed, along with her love of Poppit. She could pop balloons on her laptop for hours without glancing up.

When I was 14, my dad dropped me off with a mini laptop so Grandma could play on it. Nursing homes aren’t as secure as you might think, and there was no chance he was going to leave it there unattended. I know it sounds bad, babysitting a laptop instead of wanting to spend time with my grandmother.

I had a lot of growing up to do.

I could hear Grandma’s television long before I got to her room. In grandparent fashion, she was sleeping right through it. When I woke her up, she was happy to see me and the computer.

She played games until her arthritis started hurting while I rolled around the room in a wheelchair.

With a couple hours before my dad came to pick me up, Grandma and I surfed the channels and I was thrilled when she wanted to watch the rest of Zenon, one of my favorite Disney movies.

Then we talked.

We talked about everything. It’s easy to forget that the elderly haven’t always been in rocking chairs and hospital beds. They have lived long lives through eras I’ve only read about in books.

Grandma’s young life was spent in boarding schools. She married at 22 and worked at the American Tobacco Company in Durham.

She was an excellent seamstress. She hand-sewed the uniforms for my aunt’s high school color guard team and cheerleading squad.

Grandma didn’t attend college until later in life, when her children were in college, too. She told me about when she took a Spanish class at the same time as my aunt. She whispered not to tell, but that Susan had gotten so angry when Grandma scored higher than her in the class.

 My father says they never took the same class, but I like how Grandma told the story.

I didn’t just learn to listen to the elderly that day. I realized that I have the ability to be important in someone’s life. I don’t know if I was ever the most important, but on the days I sat and listened to Grandma, I could tell no one had in a long time.

Until she passed away last year, I visited whenever I got the chance. I heard the same stories over again, and I started to hear some that I knew weren’t true. But they were real to her, and nothing made me happier than lending an ear.