Mamie is my 99.5 year-old grandmother. We recently had a very special visit in Argentière, France — the mountain town just outside Chamonix. From the apartment one has a glorious view of Mont Blanc. It is always special to spend sacred time with an elder, but this visit felt especially so. There could be a number of reasons attributed. Last year we were unable to visit because of Covid. This year I got to witness the introduction of my brother's wife to her for the very first time. This is something we did not know would be possible, and there we were.
But still, there was something else, something more. A few years prior, I remember visiting when many of us thought it would be the last. At that time her pacemaker battery needed to be changed (although technically it should not have needed to be yet). She was holding 40 lbs of excess water weight, which was literally seeping out of her skin. That year I saw her in the hospital where they were working hard to drain the excess liquid before the operation. She seemed so weak and tired. I would go sit with her as she dozed then woke, and sometimes tears would fall down my cheeks. Tears of unknowing, tears of fearing.
Leaving that year I still felt uncertain. Another year came, and she was fine. Then another year, and there is Covid—and she is positive … but asymptomatic, phew. Then this year, there she was—smiling and standing strong with her toothless grin. She lost a few front teeth since the last time I had seen her. Somehow this loss of teeth had a beautiful charm when paired with her graceful smile. It seemed to bring out a child-like lightness.
An especially endearing moment happened when Soren (whose love of chocolate is no secret) was sneaking his finger in the open Nutella jar while waiting for his crepe. Mamie caught wind of the fun and began digging in too! The cutest scene — watching Mamie and Soren sneak chocolate together, and after each sneak looking at each other giggling, hardly aware that Mommy was taking it all in, all the while feigning obliviousness.
Mamie, who cared so much for her svelte Parisian figure. She was queen of the castle.Creating exquisite meals and fine drink for anyone who came into her home. Such a conscientious hostess, she noted in her journals to whom she served what, so as never to insult one by offering the same meal twice. Such thoughtfulness and care were just a natural part of her humble character. She did all this selfless service in custom made outfits for her strong, slithe figure. She worked out daily and took care to never overindulge. She was a model of perfection.
Here she was, a plump great grandmother, not thinking for a moment on calories or form. Giggling joyously with abandon as she enjoyed Nutella with her little, like-minded friend. I looked at her then, always with admiration. I look now and see all that and more. She is Venus of Willendorf, the archetypal woman in all her glory. Mother, maiden, crone, and child all in one.
There were other times in the apartment that were not so joyous. Moments where she would gaze longingly out at the mountain top. Tears would roll down her cheeks. Tears of unknowing … tears of fearing? She talked about being so old, all her friends were gone, her husband too. She wondered what it all meant. Why was she here and not there? I tried to cheer with the usual “how nice is it that you are here with us, your daughter, grandchildren and great grandchildren”. What a glorious tree you have created, nurtured, and which will continue to grow. These tears however ran deep, deeper than I might understand.Reflection from the depth of her being which needed thought and healing tears, no matter how late the date.
She developed an interesting habit or tic in her old age. She continuously rubs the top of her head, gently. A few years back that spot lost all its hair. We tried to put a scarf on, or remind her, but the habit persisted. This year something was different, the hair had grown back. Somehow this feels hopeful. As I watch her gently rub the top of her head, sometimes with her childish grin and at others with her melancholic gaze, I ponder. It is as if she is massaging her crown chakra, the one known as “the bridge to the cosmos”. Interesting.
I also think about babies and how much we love to touch and rub their heads, feeling their little soft spots and kissing them ever so gently in this endearing yet fragile expression of their beings. Is she mothering her own spirit, preparing it for the next phase? Completing goodbyes, finding forgiveness, letting go of what was and basking in what is. I wish she would never go, of course. If fate would have it she will be here for many years to come. She is my heart, my life line, my inspiration. At some of the darkest places in my life she was my light. I find gratitude in her existence, her light, what a beautiful and precious gift this, Mamie of mine.
