Picking Wildflowers with Granny

In my last blog post, I shared the story of my mother, Ann Hart Hughes Scribner, including some of my memories and a commentary from my father.  The blog post ended with the statement that Mom struggled with dementia or Alzheimer’s for more than a decade at the end of her life.

My father wrote his memories of Mom during their younger years, and I wrote of my memories of our years as a young family.  But during the final chapter of her life, Mom’s grandchildren had a very different type of memory of her, and I want to share that with you as well.   

My daughter, Abby, was the youngest of my parents’ grandchildren.  Both Mom & Dad died in 2006 when Abby was a young teenager.  At some point, while Abby was in high school, she wrote about her grandmother who she knew as her Granny.  With Abby’s permission, I am going to share some of what she wrote in 2008: 

“I was browsing through my bookshelf the other day, sorting through books and trying to make room for new ones.  Not surprisingly, I ended up sitting down and flipping through old books and enjoying the memories of some of my favorite stories.  And then a picture fell out of one of the books.  You know how fun it can be to use a special picture for a bookmark.  And the picture that fell into my lap was, of course, a special photo.  It was a snapshot that someone, probably my dad, took when I was just a toddler, not even two years old.  I was standing in the woods near my grandparent’s house and my grandmother, Granny, was picking wildflowers with me.  We both had wildflowers in our hands and were very intent on our mission.

Granny was a small woman with a large heart.  She was a mother of five and grandmother of eight.  She was a southern lady with soft spoken ways and warm words.  She and my grandfather had a very interesting and happy life together.  They lived a full life, took care of their children, and when the time came, they took care of each other. 

We didn’t get to see my grandparents every day because they lived in a nearby state, but as the years went by we visited more often and made longer visits in the summer.  I am the youngest grandchild, so I don’t remember Granny in her younger years quite the same as my older cousins do, but I knew her the last 15 years of her life – all of those years with Alzheimer’s moving into her life like a slow tide rising steadily.

When I was young I never knew about Alzheimer’s, I just knew that Granny was getting “older” and more feeble physically – unsteady on her feet, slower to talk, forgetful.  Granddaddy started to help her more with things.  Yes, she was getting older, but she still wanted to know about school, visit with me and even listen to me play my violin for her.

I don’t really remember when my parents first told me about Alzheimer’s, but I do remember thinking that it explained a lot about what was happening to Granny.  Knowing allowed me to understand and gave me patience to interact with her without expecting her to respond directly to me.

Granny lived with Alzheimer’s for many years and in the end she could not talk at all, she could not feed herself and could not walk or even sit up on her own.  Questions needed to be yes or no questions and sometimes we would get a head nod in response, other times not.  Granddaddy became her full time caretaker and their life moved into a daily routine.  He got her up each morning and fed her breakfast and by mid-morning a home nurse would arrive and bathe her and get her dressed.  The nurse would bring her to the living room before leaving where Granny had “ownership” of the best end of the sofa.  Granny would be in the middle of the house, listen to the TV (she preferred nature shows) and she could be a part of whatever went on in the house during the day.  We would lay her back on the sofa for naps and then sit her up for lunch and everyone always ate lunch with her in the living room.  Another long nap in the afternoon, dinner, more TV and then off to bed.  And the next day and the next were often more of the same unless there was something special planned.

My grandmother died in 2006 within hours after she was told that Granddaddy had died from heart failure.  She couldn’t talk, but she knew – it was in her eyes.  They’d been together for over 50 years and so they left together.  Maybe they are picking wildflowers together now.”

 – Abigail Jane McCrary, 2008 

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Key individuals:                                                                                                                   

        Ann Hart Hughes Scribner  (1921 – 2006)

        Robert Gordon Scribner  (1923 – 2006)          

– Jane Scribner McCrary