93 and 33
By all accounts, she is a pretty interesting woman. She married once, her husband ran off on her, and she raised my Auntie Sis with the help of her Aunt Mae in North Idaho. After some time, she took a job as a waitress, and married my Grandpa Marburger.
Al and Ida had four kids, several airplanes, and a long life together until he died in 1992.
Now, my grandma manages with full time help in her home. She seems happy, but her mind is not all there. At some point I realized that I go visit her for me, not for her, and that has made it easier when she doesn't know who I am.
Getting old is hard, and I hope I manage it with grace, as she has.
I will say that watching the people who you remember as strong and intimidating become small and confused is a hard thing. In my memory, grandma is taller than me, has a look that keeps my greedy little hands out of the cookie jar, and is always crocheting an afghan. Now, she is not even 5 feet tall, looks unfocused through her cataracts, and can't remember how to make a PB&J let alone an afghan.
Seeing her does have me wondering who will come visit me if I make it to 93. It seems that having kids and grand kids keeps one in company in old age. It's a bit scary to think that I may have no one as I get to that point in life, but that is where nieces and nephews come in, right?
This is getting altogether too morbid.
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