It was in January of 2012 that my sibs
and I worked together with my niece and her husband to put ourselves on a
schedule so that someone would always be at home with my mom – which
unfortunately did not always work out.
We would keep in touch by phone and
sending the same email to our group so that we could all kind of keep track of
what was going on. It wasn’t until
November when Nate decided to create a group page on facebook. He gave it the name “Operation Grandma Care”. We started out with Six members and gradually
we became Nine.
The site was up for less than three
months before we had moved my mom into assisted living. I don’t know when Nate
removed himself from the group but it couldn’t have been more than eight months
after he’d created the site.
Nevertheless the seven of us that remained continued to keep tabs on one
another, supply information and make inquiries.
Pictures we posted and Sunny even
posted a video which shows my mom singing three songs. What a treasure that
is! I am so grateful to Nate for having
created the site for us.
After my mom passed away less than five
months ago, we decided we would keep the site but we changed the name. Well, Kayla did. Operation was dropped and an S was added to
make “Grandma Cares” It’s funny that the
site contains only one grandchild.
We kept it in order to share stories
and photos and memories of mom but also of dad and our family. Corey will periodically post discoveries he
has made while going through her journals. Yesterday I posted one of Jenna’s
favorite stories that only Patrick and I had experienced. (Fortunately for Corey and Kayla they both
missed out)
True story: In searching for creative
ways to economize, Salt Lake Tribune had a featured area of suggestions and
recipes. My mom tried one called “Peanut
Butter Casserole” the very idea of
putting tomatoes, onions and peanut butter together would make my nose turn –
but now that I’ve tasted it, I can honestly say the idea makes me puke.
Mom decided to go heavy on the peanut
butter – which I have no way of knowing weather it improved or hindered the
taste. My brother Patrick thought it was
the grossest thing ever. He had had only
one bite and figured out what the ingredients were and pulled away from the
table as though he had been bitten.
I remember finding the recipe that mom
had so carefully cut out of the paper. I
tore it to bits and distributed only a few pieces into each trash can we had in
the house. Mom wasn’t good at puzzles. She would never be able to put it back
together if she wanted to. But she too,
admitted it was bad.
I didn’t realize until my neighbor
commented on my post that she too had tortured her family with the yucky excuse
for a meal. She, too, can testify to its
awfulness. Now we can all laugh at the
experience.
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