A Room from the Past

I saw an old picture of Grandma Ila’s TV Room/Study today. It brought back a million memories. It’s interesting how a particular place can take you back. I lived in that house for a couple of years and it didn’t have this effect on me then. Once she was gone and the familiar furniture, drapes, etc. it may as well have been a different place.

Brooklyn's Blessing
The picture that inspired this post. Notice that although
Grandma isn't in her chair her coke and neck pillow
are sitting there watiting for her.

Today though, the memories ran through my mind like a newsreel, one after another. I remembered as a kid sitting at a table in there for Thanksgiving and literally passing (throwing) the rolls back and forth down the table with my cousins.

Crowding a dozen or so people in the room to visit, fitting 5 on the couch, 2 or 3 on the blue chair, a couple on the floor, someone sitting on the desk; rather than move into the front room, for no logical reason other than it was where we gathered. I spent countless hours of my life sitting in the blue chair and watching TV with Grandma Ila. There are dozens of memories of walking in to find Grandma with her recliner pulled up in front of the TV watching her Jazz games and yelling at the television. Grandma always refused to let me replace the horribly ugly, falling apart drapes.

I remembered how during Grandma’s last year as the end got closer it seemed everyone tended to gather around there after work each day for an hour or two. To both check on Grandma and fight over holding baby Brooklyn. Eventually Grandma would decide we should get some food from somewhere. After tossing the idea around awhile someone would make a run to Burger King or get up the gumption to fix something.



I vividly recall coming in the room to see her sitting in her recliner with her coke and “crispy” (rice crispy treat) within reach. Right up to the end of her life she would get out of bed, get dressed for the day, and make it to her chair. Taking my turn helping her up and following her to the bathroom to make sure she didn’t fall, as she walked with her walker. Following her as she made laps with her walker; into the hall, through the front room, the kitchen and back. Standing on the recliner to get into the weird closet built up by the ceiling so I could get bedding down to spend the night on her couch when it was my turn.

Then trying to get any kind of a breeze because the room was so hot I could not possibly sleep. The day the candle on the desk started Emily’s hat on fire. Getting the pans of rolls down from up above the bookshelf where they were rising for Sunday dinner.

My last memory of Grandpa LaMar being alive was in that room. It was Sunday afternoon after dinner and he was sitting in the recliner watching TV. Mom and Susan were trying to convince him he maybe should go to the doctor because he was not feeling well. He told them maybe tomorrow. He died that afternoon of a heart attack while having a nap.

It is hard to describe the feeling that was always in that room. It was always warm and cozy, a safe place, a feeling of comfort. During Grandma’s last week there was a steady stream of visitors in and out of the room visiting with her as she dozed in her recliner.

I imagine there are dozens of people with memories of Grandma’s room. They are all probably a little different and have different meanings for each of us. However, I think we would all agree on one thing and that is, there was always love to be found there.