Day Three: Strength

I have a good mother, and I have had two good grandmothers. These women are strong. They love selflessly, they laugh recklessly, and they listen openly. They may not always be fearless, but they have faced their fears with tremendous courage, and I count it a blessing that they have walked before me, so I could stick my footsteps in the safe spaces their steps have created and could feel brave when it's been time for me to step out in unmarked places and leave tracks of my own.

My grandma Helen would not have bragged about her strength to anyone, but she taught me strength in the love she showed my grandpa. I watched her face the loss of her spouse and her own journey of aging so bravely. My grandpa had his first stroke when I was in seventh grade. I didn't really understand what that meant, but I watched him struggle for words and sink back into himself when we were gathered around him. This was new. My grandpa had been the light of the room. What were we all to do when he was here, but also sort of gone? I don't really know what it must be like to move into the role of caretaker for your spouse, especially when you've been the one to allow your spouse to lead for so long. I know she isn't alone. This is a journey that many people have faced and many of us will face in the future. I can't tell you what all of it felt like for her because she didn't really analyze it with me; however, I can tell you exactly what it looked like. It looked like standing up. It looked like she grabbed him by the arm and stood right next to him while he faced the end of his life. It looked like a vow being fulfilled and a woman embracing a courage she didn't even know was buried deep within her. It wasn't a short journey. It was seven years, fleck by fleck, pixel by pixel being erased away. It was cleaning up and getting up and putting to bed and feeding and trying to engage a memory that could not be unlocked. And when all of that became too much for her to handle on her own at home, all of the cleaning and unlocking moved to the nursing home where she continued to be his advocate and his ally and his caretaker.

There are many faces that proclaim female empowerment, but I would suggest that this face is one that often gets overlooked. She cooked and cleaned, and she raised children, and she stood up when things got tough. And in the end, he depended on her, and she depended on herself and her faith in God. I'm sure it was tough for her to see him this way. I'm sure it was hard for her to get him through the demands of daily tasks; he had been a strong Kansas farmer, much bigger than she was, but I never heard her label her care for him as anything. It was what needed to be. A love like this takes selflessness and vulnerability and an ability to embrace pain. She's one of the strongest women I've ever known.