by Bryan Stevenson
Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. ~ I Corinthians 13: 7-8
My grandfather was determined to stand up for my parents’ wedding.
You can see him in those photographs, standing there, leaning heavily on
his cane. A few days later he was confined to a wheelchair and would
never walk again. Multiple sclerosis took his ability to walk, but it
never took his joy in living life. His grit, determination, and optimism
was amazing, but I’ll save that story for another time. This tale is
about his wife Joanna, my grandmother, and how she taught me one of the
most important lessons that one person can teach another.
They didn’t know what was wrong with Granddaddy. His balance was off
and he was having trouble walking. Grandmother took a job with the city
and my Dad started working as well. They weren’t sure what the future
held, but they were going to work hard to make sure the family survived.
When they found out it was MS, Granddaddy decided to do everything he
could for himself, driving, vacationing, working on cars, fixing up
around the house. He had disdain for motorized wheelchairs, and
fashioned all kinds of homemade tools to help him get stuff done. Still,
there were things he simply couldn’t do.
Some of my earliest memories
of him are when I was in elementary school and I got to push him in his
wheelchair up the short ramp to the 2nd level of their house where their
bedrooms were. It was only 2 steps up, but when I was old enough to
help him get up the ramp myself it was a big deal. Grandmother usually
did it, and I can picture her leaning forward and pushing Granddaddy up
that green, wooden ramp. I also remember cross country trips my family
took with them when I was a kid, pulling their trailer and camping out
as we made the trek from California to Florida over the course of 5 or 6
days. Granddaddy always drove, and he always helped to set up the
trailer. Grandmother was always there to help, whether it was packing up
the wheelchair or leveling the trailer on the lot, she went to work and
that was how it was.
As they grew older Granddaddy had to rely more and more on
Grandmother’s help. He didn’t have any feeling from the waist down, and
his circulation wasn’t very good. So occasionally he would get a cut or a
sore of some kind and Grandmother would have to change the bandages and
clean it multiple times per day. Granddaddy’s shoulders eventually wore
out from all of the wheeling around and lifting himself up with his
arms. Grandmother was always there to help him move from his wheelchair
to his bed, or into the car for the rare trip out of the house. During
the last few years of his life, multiple strokes gradually took his
ability to speak or communicate, and one side of his body was partially
paralyzed in addition to his MS. Still, well into her 80s, Grandmother
was the primary caregiver, never wavering. I don’t think I ever noticed
her fortitude until one of our final visits before Granddaddy passed
away.
Grandmother shared a story with me. Shortly before we arrived she was
loading Granddaddy into the van for a trip to the doctor’s office. At
this point Granddaddy was unable to do much of anything for himself. He
couldn’t propel his wheelchair himself and he couldn’t talk or
communicate much at all. Grandmother had him on the electric lift to
raise his wheelchair into the cargo van when she lost her balance and
grabbed onto to him to keep herself from falling. Unfortunately they
both fell out of the van from a few feet off the ground. Grandmother was
OK, but Granddaddy broke both of his shins.
Grandmother had tears in her eyes as she told me about it, “I just
felt so bad for him. To know that I did that to him.” Then she kind of
laughed at herself and said, “But he can’t feel a thing, so I don’t know
why I’m so upset. It’s just that Steve has been through so much. I
don’t know how he keeps going day after day."
In that moment I realized how much Grandmother loved him. Her love
blinded her to the inconveniences in her own life. She didn’t wallow in
self pity, instead she felt sorry for the one she loved! She didn’t rage
against God or fate, instead she used misfortune as an opportunity to
show her love. Through 50+ years of marriage, and decades of care and
compassion she showed love in a way that no one else I know has shown.
She didn’t say “I love you” with words. Grandmother is love, in person.
