Children are a gift from the Lord; the fruit of the womb, a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children born in one's youth. Blessed are they whose quivers are full. They will never be shamed contending with foes at the gate. ~Psalm 127:3-5

Monday, April 1, 2013

The Beauty in AGING


Grandma Anne was 91 when she died.  I remember many things about her, some painful and some wonderful.  The two things that stand out in my mind in stark contrast from one another are: the last few years of her life as it was shrouded in the horrendous abyss of Alzheimer's, and her beautiful silvery hair.

My mother used to wash Grandma's hair with that water-less shampoo you can buy for people who can't necessarily take regular baths or showers.  She'd suds her up, and then brush her locks, the long strands of silver shining brightly in the lamplight.  Like fine silk, it flowed through the brush under my mom's strokes, soft and brilliant.

I loved her hair. One of my favorite things while visiting was to give Grandma a kiss on the cheek and touch the back of her head, feeling her thin, soft hair between my fingers, the silver often catching the light playing off her bobby pins.  Grandma was always concerned about her hair; even in moments cloaked in the darkness of her dementia, she'd smooth her hair with her wrinkled hand or ask for a comb.  Grandma loved her bobby pins and when my mom would put them in Grandma's hair, she took special care to place them just so.

I'm glad that even before Alzheimer's took over all reason and sense, Grandma was not one to dye her hair. It was that beautiful silver gray in all of my memories of her and I never once considered her "old" because of it.  At times, her hair served as a reminder that no matter how wrinkled and yellowed she looked, or even how disoriented and mean she acted, she was still my Grandma, still beautiful, still there. 


1 comment:

Lynn Proctor said...

i was thinking about my grandmothers just this morning--beautiful post!!