An angel who’ll never forget

My 83-year-old grandfather recently visited California for the

first time in six years. He lives just outside of Pittsburgh, and I’m

not able to see him as often as I’d like. But in the time I did get

to spend talking with him, we would talk about how school was going,

how amazing it was that the Angels finally won the World Series and,

mostly, about my grandmother.

My grandmother’s name was Millie. She was born in 1919 in a small

town in western Pennsylvania. She loved sewing, traveling, bowling,

going to church, and setting a good example for the rest of us. In

1979, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. After a very long fight,

with numerous recoveries and relapses, she left us on May 18. It

seems like she’s been gone for much longer, though.

My grandmother also had Alzheimer’s disease. The horrors of this

disease are unexplainable to anyone who has not experienced losing

someone to it. My grandmother went from a completely self-sufficient

woman to a shadow of herself and spent her last days in a nursing

home.

My grandma was one of the finest people who ever lived on this

Earth. When she came into a room, her quiet presence just seemed to

envelope you, making you feel more loved than you did before. She

always had a smile on her face, a song on her lips and a prayer in

her heart. She always used to tell me, “You’re the greatest.” But she

was.

I’m blessed to have memories of my grandma before she had

Alzheimer’s, although, being the youngest grandchild, I have the

fewest.

My earliest memories are the fondest. She loved to sing. When my

great aunt Janie would come in from New York City, the two of them

would entertain me with their delightful harmonies. She loved roller

coasters. She always used to smile the whole way through. Once, when

I asked her why, she said it was to make sure her teeth didn’t fall

out. She loved her grandchildren. She didn’t think we could do any

wrong and, when we did, she always knew we would turn out all right.

When she passed away, I didn’t just lose a grandmother, I lost a

role model for life. In this day and age, there are so few adults

that my generation can truly admire. My grandma appreciated every day

of her life, even days when she was ill from chemotherapy treatment

or upset because she couldn’t remember how to make coffee anymore.

She lived every day and was thankful for being there.

The last time I saw my grandma, even though she couldn’t remember

my name, she knew that she loved me. She was so frail, so confused. I

am ashamed to say that I didn’t spend as much time with her as I

should have. It was too hard for me to see her like that. No one

should have to see someone they love like that.

I prefer to remember my grandma as she used to be. She would tell

me stories about her childhood: working in her father’s store,

singing with her brothers and sisters, going to school. Even toward

the end of her life, she was able to remember these stories, and I

loved to hear them over and over.

My grandmother left me a few things when she died, and I will

always treasure them. But the thing I will treasure the most is the

excellent example she set for me. I will always attempt to emulate

her gentle patience, her warm kindness and her unrelenting faith.

I miss her, yet I know she is always with me. When I graduate high

school, I know she’ll be with me. When I get my first job, I know

she’ll be with me. When I get married, I know she’ll be with me. And

when my time on this Earth is up, I know she’ll be with me.

I know that she is always there with me: guiding the steps I take,

watching out in case I fall, comforting me when I’m in need and

putting her hand in mine, telling me I’m the greatest.

* KATE GUESMAN is a junior at Newport Harbor High School, where

she edits for the Beacon. Her columns will appear occasionally in the

Community Forum section.