In Loving Memory of Patricia Brooks

Last night I called my Grandma. Like I said from Entry 1, her health has been declining rapidly. Hospice told us we had a few weeks, so I wanted to talk to her sooner rather than later when she wouldn't understand me. I called at 7:30 pm Monday. Kyle handed her the phone, and I could hear her labored breathing. I said "Hi Grandma, its Kelly!" and she said in a garbeled sort of way that was barely intelligible, "Hey Darlin'." Thats the way she's said it my whole life. I could tell she was really laboring. I tried to swallow the knot in my throat and said "I talked to Helen (my cousin) yesterday Grandma. We talked about you. I was remembering all the things you had taught me. You taught me how to read my Bible. You taught me how to pray. Do you remember that, when I was little? (I'm crying by this point) And Grandma, you are the one who taught me how to write in cursive and put my fingers in the right place on the pen." She was trying to reply, I could tell. But I couldn't understand her. She was animated though. And that was something. Then I said "And Grandma, you know how you always prayed I would meet a good man who would marry me no matter how tall I was? Well I believe that I will meet him one day. And it will be thanks to your prayers. And I'm sorry you will never get to meet him, but I'll tell him about you." I'm rambling at this point, and trying to make her understand through my cry-voice. And she said the most intelligible thing then, I could make it out clearly: "It will be God's choice" and I knew she meant about my one-day husband. And I had no more words. I pulled it together to tell her how much I loved her and to sleep well.
I didn't know it would be the last time I would talk to her. Or that besides Kyle, Brittany, Mom and Papa, I would be the last to speak to her. And I'm so so grateful. I will always have that.
Brittany said that after they had already put Grandma to bed in the hospital bed and Papa to bed in their bed, they heard Papa get up. They went to check on him and found him tucking Grandma's arms in the covers. He doted on her for a minute before bending over and kissing her on the forehead. Then he sat in the armchair next to her and watched her for a while, probably praying, but watching her. Then eventually he got back up and went to bed himself.
I got the call this morning around 7 am from both Mom and Brittany. When I saw the caller ID that it was them that early, I knew what it meant. I couldn't answer because I had just arrived at work. But I listened to the voicemails.
Grandma is with her Jesus now. She's whole, and she's with Michael! Oh what a glorious day. Like my Aunt (Michael's mom) said today, Michael's showing her around heaven :) And we are praising the Lord because of her blessed assurance. I've been singing that song all day...

1. Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
   Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
   Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
   Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.
   
   • Refrain:
     This is my story, this is my song,
     Praising my Savior all the day long;
     This is my story, this is my song,
     Praising my Savior all the day long.
2. Perfect submission, perfect delight,
   Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
   Angels, descending, bring from above
   Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.
3. Perfect submission, all is at rest,
   I in my Savior am happy and blest,
   Watching and waiting, looking above,
   Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

Grandma: Entry 3

Continued from Entry 2 and 1:

Another fond memory is when Grandma saw me eating a slice of cheese by itself. She was horrified that I would snack on that alone. Apparently it wasn't adequate. She would also pay me and Kyle a quarter if we drank our entire glass of milk. And we always had ice cream in a cone for dessert. It was our special treat...only if we at all our food. And that was more of a challenge when she was the one who did the cooking. Compared with my mom who was a caterer, Grandma wasn't particularly gifted in the culinary arts. There were times that my mom could barely swallow some of the food....oh those were funny moments! Always seeking to avoid any offence though, we swallowed until we gagged sometimes. I distinctly remember floppy, chewy, yellowy asparagus. And extremely over-lemoned tilapia. And lots and lots of peas. Always peas. And we had to eat our Lima beans with applesauce. Oh, and one could never forget the waffles. If you even know our family, you know about Grandma's Waffles. They were her own special recipe. She even included it in the back of her novel. If you followed the recipe just right and didn't overcook them, you just might turn out a perfect replica both in taste and texture of a 5x5 piece of cardboard. Syrup didn't quite do it, no matter the quantity. If you were lucky enough to be graced with the opportunity to join us on a Waffle day, you would not forget it. And you would have an early lunch once you left.

One thing that was always a tough subject for us was my singleness. Grandma never understood why I was/am always single. She wanted to hear all the details of any and every banquet date I had. How they asked me. What we did. Was he interested in me? Was I in him? Why not? Without fail, I would get the question "So have you met anyone at school?" Then in college "Have you met anyone up there yet? Any boys from the basketball team?". Then my sophomore year when I left for college, grandma informed me that she had asked God to send me "a tall, handsome Baritone, so that he can sing with you!" If you knew my Grandma, you would know that she and God have serious conversations. So I actually half believed her! It was the one dream of hers she had for me: to see me happily paired with a tall, handsome man who would provide for me. Its a dream that she will never see fulfilled now since she's gone. And for that my heart breaks, because it was a dream of mine too. But its a dream I know God will fulfill in His own time. But I would have loved for her and Papa to dance at my wedding. I asked them to dance at Kyle's. After Papa's accident, they were physically unable to. It was a miracle that they were both alive and present to witness at least one of their 15 grandchildren getting married. What a gift that was!

But, conversely, maybe I'm single because I never heeded Grandma's advice: she told me never to wear heels, that I was already tall enough, and guys don't like girls that are too tall. She was never a short woman herself, so I always wondered at that because she wore heels in some of her pictures. And during my particularly pertinent years, I would wear the biggest heels I owned whenever I would stop by their house after church. Oh, did that get a reaction out of her! You would have thought I had decided to be celibate or lesbian with the way she thought I repelled men in heels! I loved it.

The one area she was truly proud of me was my music. She loved to hear me sing. Sometimes when I was over, she'd play the piano for me and sing with me to the hymns she loved. Papa and Grandma always had to be coerced to attend any of my volleyball or basketball games, but they were always there for any recital or other musical performance. I remember being told one time how she had bragged on my singing. It made me so proud! And then she told me I got it from my great great grandmother, the one she eventually wrote her novel about. I was so happy about that! I felt I had received a special gift/talent as a heritage, or even an heirloom. When my cousin Helen ended up also possessing a beautiful soprano voice, we would sing together for the family. Grandma loved those times.

Grandma was never particularly good at the doting-affectionate-grandmotherly role. But she loved our family reunions with a passion. I loved the traditions that her and Papa implemented: of spending either Christmas or Thanksgiving together each year in alternating fashion. The usual spread at family meals. The strict adherence to the rule of the adults sitting at the adult table, and the kids sitting at the kids table. This has continued even as the oldest 6 grandkids are in or done with college.

As a family, we would always pray together. Always. We would read scripture for a long time, and we would pray. And each of us, no matter our age, would have to pray. God was always the center of our family. And my Grandmother prided herself on having four wonderful godly children who married four wonderful godly spouses and raised 15 wonderful god-fearing grandkids, two of which have found wonderful godly soulmates. Grandma prayed for all those things, every day, and with all her heart. Even though she will never see her prayer for me and my marriage fulfilled, I know that God will answer her in His time. And that is a comfort, because even though she won't be here for it, she will most definitely have had a hand in it.

Like I mentioned, Grandma loved her classic romance stories. Anything John Wayne was a particular favorite, as well as the old hollywood musical duo Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald. That was the couple my grandma based my future off of. If Jeanette was able to find a hunk who could sing, why not me? I ask myself the same question Grandma: why not me?

And Grandma loved her treats. I don't really remember a time when there wasn't a carton of ice cream in their freezer. Mint Cholocate Chip. Sometimes something lush like Moose Tracks. But always Vanilla. She loved her store bought Aldi cookies. There was one time when Kyle and I went shopping with her at the Harris Teeter across from Carolina Day School. We had a whole cart full of grocery bags, and Grandma had us wait for her with the cart while she got the car. She picked us up, and the next thing we knew we were halfway home when Kyle turned around in the back seat of their Honda station wagon and declared that we'd forgotten the groceries! That was a funny time. The only part of Grandma's reaction that I remember, besides her surprise, was her laughing and laughing. Looking back at that now, I would do well to take a tip from her behavior then.

Grandma: Entry 2

Continued from entry 1:

After that, at some point Grandma started writing, and speaking, and traveling around to do conferences. She wrote over 15 books, many of which were quite popular, with thousands of copies sold on a few of them. You can see a list of her books here at Amazon.com. You can also google her. Who else can say that they can Google their grandmother and get real results on Amazon?

Growing up, my grandparents had an in-home publishing company. I don't remember exatly when it ended...my dad knows all the details. But they called their company 2 Chronicles 7:14. That verse is my grandma's hallmark. She uses it for every login password once she started using a computer, unless it has to be short, in which case she uses Jesus is Lord.

Some of my earliest memories are the following: one time when I was young we went to a book conference/fair where grandma had a booth of her books. She had a speaking engagement there too. It was at Bob Jones University, the notoriously third strictest college in the nation. I specifically remember her telling me I should go there when I grew up. Thank God I didn't.

I also remember my grandparents reading scripture for many hours each day. When my brother and I would sleep over, first of all I didn't particularly look forward to it. Grandma was never very adept at the "grandmotherly" things. For example, some Christmases and Birthdays we would be given money that went directly into our stock accounts that she controlled. I remember the first time she did this. I didn't mind until I found out that there were no "second" backup gifts, or that I wouldn't be able to get to the money until I was 18. I was pretty upset after that. But then one Christmas she gave me the Love Comes Softly series by Jeanette Oak. I thought it would be boring and old fashioned like other books she recommended to me. But to my intense surprise and pleasure, it became one of my favorite and first romantic novels. The series plunged me deep and irreversibly into the world of romantic fiction, of which I have been an avid follower ever since. She informed me that all girls needed to experience good romance.

That is one of my favorite things about Grandma. She is profoundly intellectual, analytical, deliberate, opinionated, controlling and insensitive on many accounts. But she is a hopeless romantic. And that was the one area we were always able to connect on. When she wrote her first novel, it was based in part on the story of her grandmother, my great grandmother. I was fascinated and riveted by the tragic love story played out in my own ancestral history. My great great grandmother was an Opera singer. She had an incredible voice that awed audiences, or so my great grandmother said. But she was forced into a marriage to a horrible man who forbade her to sing for anyone but him. And her voice died in her throat, along with her spirit. Isn't that so tragic? That happened! That was my ancestor! And I loved hearing all the stories about it. Grandma and Papa even traveled to Scotland and Ireland to visit landmarks from our history, for Grandma's research for her novel. They also did a 2 year stint of missions work in New Zealand. They traveled to some awesome places. And I get to claim that Grandma asked me to read and “edit” her first manuscripts of her novel about my great great grandmother. I loved that. I was the first family member to read it.

Grandma: Entry 1

I got the call today that Hospice evaluated my Grandmother's failing health, and informed us that based on her condition she only has a few more weeks to live. Her health has steadily and marginally declined every day since my Pap'as accident a year ago. In the last few months she has fallen into the merciless fingers of Dementia and all the side-effects of that horrid disease. I wanted to record some of my memories now, while I can still call her and remind her of them. I will probably be posting these memories frequently over the next weeks. They are mainly my way of processing and coping. They are also for my family. I'm going to tell you about her and who she was to me and for me.
A bit of background:
My grandmother is a pretty impressive woman. She grew up a pretty little flirt, all the rage with the boys. She was quite the looker. She went to Duke University and met her 3 best friends. They called themselves the Boresome Foursome. They did all kinds of crazy things. My grandma's freshman year roommate was a total hippy, according to Grandma. She smoked everything, and "slept in the nude". Grandma promptly requested a room transfer. One of the boresome foursome, Joyce Wine, is still her closest friend to this day. They were each others maid-of-honor, and they saw each other almost every year of their life. Joyce is a florist. Her husband is hilarious. I loved when they would come and visit because Grandma would try to impose her rules of the house on them, and Lyman would have none of it! One time during dinner Lyman started to snag some cookies before the meal was over. She told him he had to clean his plate before he could have dessert (the dessert that he brought) and he told her her would eat his dessert whenever he pleased no matter what she said! We all died laughing, and it was the first time I'd ever seen my grandmother be truly put in her place with so few words. I loved Lyman from that moment. And Joyce would always bring the most beautiful arrangements of flowers for the table.

After her first year at Duke, my grandma transferred to Tufts University. Although she was studying English and Writing, she informed me early on that most women go to college to get their M.R.S. degree. I didn't understand that till I was older. Then I found it quite amusing. But she went on after college to be an English professor. She met my papa, Richard F. Brooks, who was a complete stud back then. There's a picture of my papa with his brothers, and when I saw it for the first time I didn't believe it at first. No joke, they looked like Abercrombie models. All four of them. And Grandma and Papa's wedding pictures are straight out of a Hollywood movie. I mean, its pretty crazy how attractive they were. No wonder Grandma can never understand my singleness. She never was! Right after they got married they became Christians. I'll bet theres a whole score of stories I've never heard about that courtship.

Pretty soon after their marriage, they had my dad. Then my Uncle John. Then God called them to go be missionaries in Nigeria. So they went, and had my Aunt BethAnn there. My dad and Uncle John were sent to boarding school because that was the law then. It was hell. Very traumitizing experience. But thats a different story. They saw miraculous things in Nigeria. The Lord was truly working through them. When they returned to the states they had my Uncle Bill.

Stay tuned for: Grandma's writing career

Treated like a Lady

Friday night I went downtown with some friends to dinner and dessert. I haven't been into the city all summer, so I was really looking forward to it. I got off work early and stopped in at Francescas and bought a whole new outfit for the evening. I hadn't treated myself to a dress of my own choosing in quite a while (no offense to all the bridesmaid dresses I wore this summer). I felt very nice.
It was not a date, but one of my friends picked me up in his car and drove me to the city to meet our friends. I've never been picked up before. The simple act of picking me up, paying for the gas to get down there stuck in traffic for two hours, and paying for parking were such a gift to me. But the kindness of the evening didn't end there. My dinner ended up being paid for, as well as dessert at the Cheesecake Factory (my favorite!) by my friend's boyfriend. The tips were covered, and I never even paid a dime. I was not expecting to be treated to such generosity that night. And it overwhelmed me.
I know I'm not the typical 22 year old when it comes to dates or other generally typical activities of people my age. But perhaps the fact that I am not at all accustomed to having guys/men treat me like a lady can be a blessing; it doesn't take much to floor me. To those guys, maybe it wasn't a big deal to pick me up, or pay for parking, or cover expenses for the evening. But then again, maybe it was.  And they still did it. Not because they felt obligated, or out of charity, but because they are good guys and they wanted to. I'm still overwhelmed at their simple acts that went so far for me.
I've never been wined and dined. I've never had a guy pick me up for dinner at my door instead of meeting him somewhere. I've never had someone say "No no, I've got it." And to be given that when we were all just friends was truly a gift to me. There was no pressure, no awkwardness. Just good people. And it was one of the most refreshing nights of my summer.

So if there are any guys out there reading this: you have great power! If the majority of girls appreciate those little things one tenth as much as I appreciated last night, then please don't hesitate to treat them with the "old school" gestures. Those "traditional" acts bespeke gentility, not simply interest. Doing those things for a girl doesn't have to be because you like her. It can simply be because she's a lady. And maybe if we were treated like that more often we wouldn't have to teach ourselves how to be the unprecedented independant women we're told we have to be. I know I'd happily abandon some of my independance for that on a regular basis.

And ladies: Be the kind of recipient to those acts that he would want to give them to.  I wasn't surprised by their generosity to me because I didn't think they were capable of it: no, I was surprised because I was unacustomed to having a guy treat me so well (not to mention at all). So I don't think its wrong to expect it of them in a way that says "I know you are a good man." But if and when you do find yourself on the honored and humble end of the giving, do not hide your gratitude. I think it is sad that these types of experiences are so hard to come by today, and we are thus deficient in our response. I knew that the evening would hold no romantic expectations, so we were free to be adults both in the giving and receiving. He gave, and I was profuse in my gratitude. Everyone felt appreciated and welcome.

I could go on and on about what a great night it was. Now lest you think I wasn't treated well growing up by the men in my life, I was. But I'm simply not accustomed to guys doing nice things like picking you up and paying for your evening no matter who you are to them. But simply because its good, and they wanted to, and  because I'm a woman who appreciates it. And maybe...just maybe...because I'm a lady who deserves being treated like one? whew...now that's a  thought I've never entertained before now.