#1,902 Changes.

Today was very hard, friends. Daddy and Uncle Danny made the very difficult decision that when Mammaw is well enough to leave the hospital, she won’t be able to go back home and live by herself anymore.

It kind of knocks the wind out of me to write it. I can’t begin to imagine the anguish mine and Jim’s parents are feeling about it, but I know mama has shed a lot of tears today. Me too.

They told Mammaw this morning, and she seemed to understand. But she just keeps saying, “I’m ready to go home.”

Tonight, my heart is at her tidy little brick house just across the pond from my parents. It’s on her back porch, in the white rocking chairs where it always smells like four o’clocks in bloom. It’s in her bathroom with the red heat lamp that she would click on when I would spend the night as a child and take bubble baths with those flowery Avon potions. It’s in the glass pitcher of fresh sweet tea, always in her refrigerator with a crumpled, homemade aluminum foil lid. It’s in her wallpapered and country blue dining room, and in the ring of bricks in the side yard where she would build campfires and roast marshmallows for me and Jim when we got to sleep over. It’s in the red and white striped flannel blanket we would use to build forts in the living room with chair backs and rubber bands. It’s in the Reader’s Digest condensed book hardbacks with the illustrated endsheets of ships and pirates that sit on the book shelves in the living room. It’s in the secret passageway to the garage beside the fireplace where they kept the firewood stacked for cold winter days. It’s in her utility room with the wall of canned figs and tomatoes, empty Ball jars ready for summer’s bounty.

I know that those places aren’t her, that a house does not make a home, but right now it sure feels like it.


This is going to be good, even though it feels seismic and difficult right now. It will be good for her to be surrounded by people again, which she really hasn’t in the last 14 years since Pappaw passed away. I imagine her making friends. I imagine us visiting during lunch because she’ll be close by to our house and the shop. I imagine us bringing her over for dinner at my house one night because it’s close. I imagine my dad, finally able to rest at night, not sleeping on the floor beside her bed to be sure she doesn’t fall in the night. I imagine mama, no longer worrying if Mammaw has all the right pills each day, knowing someone is watching over her when it’s time to take the right medicines to keep her feeling well.

I would really appreciate your prayers for mine and Jim’s parents as they find their footing, and for my precious grandmother as she makes this big transition.

Some changes are good, and this is one of them even though it’s hard. Maybe I’ll take Mammaw a sweet treat tomorrow. She’ll be closer, after all.


Tuesday, March 3rd, 2015

Daily Journal

10 thoughts on “#1,902 Changes.

  1. These things are hard on everyone. From what you say about your mamaw, she will find the positive things in it. My grandparents houses were much like yours- smal, cozy, filled with love and cousins. Enjoy this precious time with her. I will keep your family in my prayers as you navigate these unfamiliar waters.


  2. You honor your Mammaw with your words, Erin — such a thoughtful, sweet post. You'll always have those warm memories of spending time with her in that house. Prayers for your family!

  3. You are a blessing to your family. I remember when my Mamaw was admitted to assisted living. It is hard but you're right to look at this as an opportunity for her to make new friends and have new adventures. I'm glad that she will be closer to you. Sending happy thoughts your way.

  4. My thoughts are with you and your family. I remember when the same decision was made for my grandmother…A very tough thing to deal with.

  5. Such a sweet post about your Mammaw and all the wonderful memories made in her home. I can't imagine what your and Jim's parents are going through, having the weight of that decision, but it does sound like it will be a good thing in the end even though it is so hard right now. And like you said, at least she will be close to you and Ben where you might be able to see her even more.
    Big hugs from Oklahoma. 🙂

  6. Erin, I only recently found your blog but love reading it every day. I'm a Mississippi girl too, and I so understand that Mammaws are such special gifts to us. I truly admire how you're focusing on the good in this, and you're exactly right, she'll have someone there with her for anything at all. Please know that I'm praying for all of y'all during this transition.

  7. So thankful for your prayers, encouragement and solidarity, friends. After seeing her this morning at the hospital, I felt even more comforted by the thought of her being surrounded by people who can help her at any moment. She definitely needs that now. Thanks again, y'all.

  8. You are SO blessed to have your Mamaw AND your Momma. I lost both of mine a few years ago and my life has never been the same. Mamaw was in a home and I tried so hard to see her as much as possible and bring my little boy to visit. Something about children just lights them up. She sounds like a precious person and hopefully she will transition and enjoy her time there. Change is SO hard.

  9. My grandparents had to make the same decision for my greatgrandparents about 13 years ago, when my greatgrandfather developed Alzheimer's and my greatgrandmother wanted to stay with him.

    Luckily, I still have all my grandparents and they're all hale and healthy (touch wood), though we've had some scares lately there as well. If and when that decision has to be made, I'll be there for my parents and uncles and aunts to support them.

    What I remember very well from my greatgrandparents is that they were more at ease when they went to their new home. I sincerely hope the same will be true for you and your family.

    • So far, it's been such a great transition. She's not in love with the idea yet, but I think she feels much more at ease being there.

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