Grandma’s Green Dressing Gown
A family treasure I will wear someday
If you have ever read any of my stories, you know my grandma was one of the pivotal compasses in my life.
Though grandma has been gone more than eleven years now, her words still reverberate in the halls of my thoughts where its echoes continuously fill the empty spaces, encouraging, and motivating me.
Her words steer and guide me.
They are my rod, my staff, and my comfort.
My mother is her first daughter, and they had a special relationship. When I was born, my grandmother was very ill and remained so for over eight years, I am told.
She was finally taken to Suriname to the Jouka (native African people), by her sisters and thereafter she regained her health.
She remained healthy until she died a few months shy of her eighty-sixth birthday.
In my culture, when family members die, some of their favorite items are placed in their caskets. Most of the other pieces are burned.
Pieces are burned with the idea that the soul is free to move on without earthly possessions that bind.
Family and close friends may request special pieces to remember the deceased by.
If they die at home in their bed, that bed is burned as well.
My grandmother owned a sea-foam green robe she wore every day.
Older folks feel cold due to the loss of body fat over time.
After my grandmother passed on, my mother kept her green robe.
It is her special way to keep her mother close.
Each time I see my mom in that green robe, it calls to mind so many beautiful memories of my grandma.
That was her favorite robe.
I am sure my mother spent many quiet times with that robe thinking about her mother.
Recalling specifics of a woman I never knew.
After all, she knew her mother when she was young and in ways I could never know.
I know my mother used that robe to help her cope and grieve her mother.
I will never truly understand how my mother felt about losing her mother, as mine is still with me.
Before my grandma died, my mom traveled to visit for two weeks and spent time with her.
At the time, she was old but not sick. We never expected the end to come so quickly. My mother and grandma spent a lot of time talking and sitting on the stairs during that last visit.
One week later, when the message came that my grandma had stopped eating, we were surprised, but my mom recalls grandma saying she was tired and everyone she knew had died.
I think she just gave up and decided to go to her heavenly home.
My mother and I flew to South America.
I recently had comments on a post basically trying to argue that people are not alert up to the moment of death.
I have witnessed my share of death and dying, and I beg to differ.
My grandma told us what she wanted to be buried in and the day of her death, she said she saw her mother the night before and that she was ready.
The next day, the same day she died, she said thanks for everything and said her goodbyes and she died a few hours later.
Someday, a long time from now when my mother passes on, I will keep the green robe.
I will wear it as a means to comfort myself as I process my grief.
I will hang it in a corner of my closet like a mantle in memory of the strong women upon whose shoulders I now stand.
The women who gave birth to, and nurtured me into this person I am.
Grandma’s green robe has become a family treasure.
My story is inspired by Trista Signe Ainsworth prompt —
Pene Hodge is a mom, a nurse, a writer. She writes because she must. She loves people and is committed to sharing and gleaning knowledge for the betterment of all.