It's been close to 23 years since Grandma Bloomer died. My sisters and I were blessed to have grown up out in the country, just down the road from them. We lived so close that we could walk out to the end of our yard and see if they were home. Sometimes we waited with great anticipation for them to get home so we could run down and play with the puppies. I mean visit Grandma and Grandpa. If we were lucky, she would fix us one of her famous butter and brown sugar sandwiches; a snack that many of the grandkids still indulge in from time to time.
It seemed like we spent as much time at Grandma's house as we did our own. There was always something to do there that was much more exciting than anything going on at our house. Grandma and Grandpa used to "spy" on us with the binoculars that sat on the ledge of the bow window, next to their chairs they had facing our house. Supposedly, the binocs were for bird watching. However, that was somewhat questionable since they rather infamously called Mom during the blizzard of 1978 and ratted us out when we were sledding off the roof of the house. As I recall, numerous calls started out, "Arlene, do you know what those kids are doing?" Usually when we were supposed to be doing something constructive such as weeding the garden or raking leaves.
If our house was boring, we went to Grandma's. If we decided it was hot outside, we would run down to Grandma's house and sit in front of the air conditioner only to require a blanket within minutes, because Grandpa always had it on the "cold enough to hang meat" setting. Grandma was not dense. She knew we were just using her house to cool down and that ten minutes later we would be out the door with a butter and brown sugar sandwich until we deemed ourselves so sweaty we needed to visit her again.
Holidays were always fun at Grandma's house until the family was too large to fit and then we moved them to our house. The year that "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" was released, I played it for her and she laughed and made me play it for her again. Then she told me she loved me and was happy that I shared that song with her. It's a ridiculous song, but it made me happy that she thought it was funny too.
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I knew we were lucky to live that close to our grandparents and I felt sorry for kids who did not know theirs very well.
Sometimes we went to church with Grandma and Grandpa and every now and then they would come to ours for a special service or something. I remember Grandpa putting the final touches on his Sunday School lessons and the image of him studying his big black leather Bible remains with me today.
When I was older, I discovered that Grandma was a good listener. She was sympathetic, empathetic, and had absolutely no problem telling me when she thought I was wrong in a firm, but loving way. She had great biblical advice ready for any situation we were discussing and I used to wonder how she was able to do that. I wanted to be just like her in that way. To know Grandma was to know that Psalm 91 was her favorite of all the Psalms and over the years, I have often found great comfort in it as well.
When I moved, I called her one day and told her I missed being able to look out my bedroom window and see the light on in their bay window. When I was a kid, the last thing I did before I got in bed was look out the window and whisper good night to them. There was comfort in knowing they were just up the road if we needed them.
In later years, I enjoyed being able to help my grandparents get to doctor appointments or take Grandma to the grocery store or pharmacy. Once we were running late, so we stopped at Kentucky Fried Chicken. When we got home, she went in the back door, put the chicken in a pan, and put it in the oven. Grandpa asked what was for dinner and when it was going to be ready and she told him "Soon". I almost died laughing when she passed off Colonel Sanders' chicken as her own. If Grandpa ever figured it out, he didn't say anything. Grandma was an excellent cook so she could definitely have done chicken better than KY Fry anyway.
Grandma has been gone for 23 years now. She was in the ICU for seven or eight weeks before she rallied and was able to come home for a few weeks before she died in the house my Dad and Grandpa built. The fact that she was able to come home at all was shocking to all of us, even though we were grateful to be able to spend a few weeks with her before she left for Heaven. I believe that most of the grandkids were able to make it back home to visit with her in the weeks just prior to her death.
One thing that Grandma was good at was making sure others knew she loved the Lord and that they could know Him too. As for me, I am grateful that she took the time to direct me to Him during some very dark times in my life. When she died, Grandpa said, "Teresy, your Grandma wasn't a very big lady, but there sure is a very big hole where she used to be." Indeed, she did leave a huge empty space in all of our lives even while we are comforted by the knowledge that her journey has taken her to Heaven where she is securely face to face with her heavenly Father.
Grandma had macular degeneration so I planted some rose bushes that bore fragrant flowers so I could share them with her. I also planted stargazer lilies for the same reason. She liked flowers that she could smell because she couldn't always see them very well, but their scent allowed her to enjoy them anyway. She also loved peach cobbler and purple bearded iris. I liked to bring her peach cobbler when I moved back to Utah Road, better known as "our road" when I was an adult. The last Spring and Summer she was alive she missed the peaches and the iris and it made me sad. Twenty-three years later, these things never fail to remind me of her whenever I see them.
I still miss her, but I know I will see her again someday when we all get to Heaven.
I wrote this poem the day Grandma died in August 1997 and we read it at her funeral.
Iris in the Spring
(for Grandma)Peach cobbler in the Summer,
the Iris in the Spring,
an angel food cake at Christmas
to celebrate the birthday of our King.
Good advice freely given,
solicited or not,
babysitter to many Grandchildren
when they were tiny tots.
She had a sympathetic ear
and ready hands to wipe our tears.
Wife, Mother, and Grandmother too
she became more precious with each passing year.
Grandma thought her kids were perfect
each one with their own special gift,
and her Grandkids knew
she thought they were too
on a bad day, it could give you a lift.
But Grandpa was the special one,
the sunshine of her day,
"He was the only boy I ever loved!"
to me, she'd always proclaim.
And even when she could hardly see
she'd comb his beard so tenderly
and anyone watching them would know
they had what God wanted a marriage to be.
Grandma taught us all about God
by taking us to church.
Then she lived the lessons here at home
and told us if we asked His forgiveness,
someday we'd see Him on His heavenly throne.
Grandma missed the Iris this year,
the cobbler didn't taste the same.
But when she died
on her face was a smile
for she'd heard her Savior call her name.
And just before those left behind
had even shed a tear
Grandma heard the words of the Lord
whispered in her ear,
"Well done My good and faithful servant,
Your work on Earth is done.
Come see the place I built for you,
you've been faithful to my Son."
And when it's time for you to go
if you've lived the life that Grandma showed
with the Lord, you'll live eternally
and together with Grandma
worship at Jesus' feet.
- T. Bent
28 August 1997
