Grandma bit the green-weenie this morning. She was 104 years old.
She saw three different centuries and two different Millenia.
Beat that, Motherfucker.
In her few lucid moments from the last five years she’s been pretty much impatiently waiting for death. She’d shrunk into a blind Yodalike creature. There’s a thread around here somewhere where I talk about her. She was a neat broad who outlived just about everybody she ever knew.
She’ll be buried next to my Father’s father who has been patiently saving a spot for her these last 70 years or so.
She was perfectly healthy when she died (other than being 104 years old that is.)
She died of a late breakfast.
She had breakfast late this morning, and as she slept she got a little bit dehydrated as we all do through the night.
This through her electrolyte balance off making her slightly nauseaus, so that she didn’t eat or drink much.
She went unconscious in the her Parkchester apartment in the Bronx that my father was born in, and the live in aid called the ambulance. She died in the emergency room, making her the first of my family we know of to die of natural causes.
Apparently, when you get that old, your body just doesn’t have that much ability to recover from even the mildest shocks.
So during lunch I went out and bought a bottle of 18 year old Glenlivet. I’ll go see my father, and we’ll toast her off.
But, when I came back from lunch, it turns out the day’s events were not yet through with me.
The wife calls. She’s pregnant.
Better get two bottles.
My condolances. My congratulations.
Hell of a day.
I’m sorry for your loss, but congratulations on your gain!
And so the cycle of life continues.
Sorry to hear of your grandmother’s passing - I bet she had some stories to tell, though!
And congrats on the impending Scylla-child!
Damn, man, if Parkchester doesn’t get you, the breakfast will.
Don’t let your wife near the Scotch.
And congratulations, too.
Godspeed to Grandma - I’m aspire to triple digits.
And congrats on the impending young 'un!
We thought it was a red-letter day when Mr. S both landed a job and found out what happened to his grandfather, who vanished in 1926.
But hoo boy, you win! What a day . . . the ending of one life well lived, and the beginning of another. You’ll have a great story to tell that little one some day. (I’d be seriously thinking about lending one of Grandma’s names to the kid, myself . . .)
My favorite Grandma story is about how she bought this land in the Hamptons back in the 30s.
Today it’s one of the last undeveloped beachfront tracts. Apparently it’s right next to Howard Cosell’s place.
Anyway, she’s been paying the property taxes every year, and they’ve always been $250. Apparently though about 10 years ago they got a new tax collector, and they reassessed her property.
Her new taxes were north of $20,000.
So, she calls up complaining, and they tell her there’s nothing that they can do, so she gets on a bus, and goes down to the tax office to see them in person…
…And they put it back to $250.
She was pretty formidable and cantankerous. I imagine that when Death showed up this morning, she chewed his ass off for taking so long (and I’m sure dread of this is why he put it off so long.)
Wow. I have a 101-year-old great-grandmother who seems likely to keep going either for years, or I could get The Call tonight. You never know when people get to be that age. I can’t say I’m looking forward to that, but there’s no way it’ll be a surprise, either.
Grandmother used to be one scary woman, I’m told, but not since I’ve known her. (She was 75 when I was born, which is old in some families, but not in this one.) My mother swears I’m frighteningly like her sometimes. I can’t think of a better relative of mine to be like.
And congrats on the impending arrival!
Scylla, please raise one more glass of that Glenlivet in honour of your grandmother on my behalf, too. She sounds like a great Lady! Also, from all I’ve read by you, you sound like a more than worthy heir. Congratulations to her for a suitable end to a life well lived, and congratulations to you and your wife on her next successor.
My great grandma is the daughter of a Cherokee Indian woman and an immigrant mine worker. She’s 95 years old and still kicking. She lost her eyesight due to cataracts but is still “all there.” Her life was amazing. She was born at a time when the major mode of transportation was the horse. She saw polio and scarlet fever and tuberculosis. Then she was around to see the advent of “miracle” antibiotics and vaccinations. She lived through 2 world wars and the Great Depression.
They don’t hardly make them like her anymore.
::Raises my glass:: To tough old broads!
And when I die
and when I’m gone
there’ll be one child born
in a world to carry on,
Damn. Same thing kinda happened to us last year… my grandfather passed away and, unbeknownst to us at the time, my wife was in her 2nd or so week of pregnancy.
My condolences. My congratulations. And let me be the first (or forty-second) to tell you: you have no idea how you’re lifes gonna change.
Scylla our sympathies for your loss, and a big congrats on the other news. We wish you well through these times.
Washte and Kal (who’s on sabatical at the mo)
I’d second this. Condolences and congratulations, Scylla. Someone to receive the secrets of Evil Nazi Groundhog Warfare[sup]TM[/sup].
Wow. If you believe in reincarnation, that’d be enough to give you the shivers.
Especially on Hallowe’en and all…
My sympathy to you on the loss of your grandmother. Too often we let those that have experienced so much in life slip away without recording all that they saw.
Congrats on the new baby. Now you can rest.