Grandma's Rose (story)

Steps sounded like thunder as Dennis rushed into grandma Irene’s room. It was still unpleasant seeing her in a wheelchair. Not long ago she used to have fun chasing him around her back yard in the country.

"I wish Grandma didn’t have to be in this ole Nursing Home,” Dennis said to his parents.

“Well,” answered mom, “she needs help for washing and cooking.”

“Climbing stairs is also difficult for her,” his father added.

Dennis liked the floor in the Nursing Home with its brightly colored patterns. But it bothered him how many residents sat like soldiers at attention along each wall, just staring. He was sure once they had strong legs and quick steps. Even sat on swings or played in the ocean and made castles on the shore.

The last time he visited grandma she held tightly to his arm. She couldn’t speak but Dennis knew she didn’t want him to leave.

As he entered her room he noticed the way she stared out the window. Was she remembering the way it used to be? The boy explored Grandma Irene’s room, with pictures of the two of them in her rose garden. This little space was nothing like her country home.

"Mom?” he asked later. “How come grandma Irene hardly speaks? Or walks anymore?"

"Son, your grandmother has to have a wheelchair now, since her legs aren’t very strong. And her memory is beginning to slip because of Alzheimer’s disease."

Each question Dennis asked was like the slapping of ocean waves against the shore. More questions kept piling up in his head. Dennis knew it was very hard on mom and dad. Especially when they first coaxed grandma to move to the nursing home.

"I wish grandma was like before," Dennis said. He loved her so much. He sat in silence on the way home.

At bedtime, Dennis's bedroom was full of creaks and groans caused by his pacing on the floor. He tried to imagine how hard it must be for grandma. No more working in her garden, nor feeding sparrows and goldfinch. Not even being able to fish with Dennis in her backyard pond, stocked with neat rainbow trout.

Stars winked each time Dennis blinked back tears. He squeezed his hands wishing grandma was here. Visiting the Nursing Home today was another sad time for him.
Her wheelchair looked so cramped. Dennis knew grandma was sorry he had to see her like that.

She used to enjoy showing Dennis around her farm. When he caught his first fish, grandma was right beside him. It was a fourteen-inch Rainbow. And he remembered jumping up and down like a jack-in-the-box.

Dennis missed her warm hugs, and being called, "my little chickadee," her favorite bird. She had such a neat way of making him feel safe and comfortable. Now in the stillness of his room, he wrapped both arms around his shoulders. "Was she thinking of him right now?" he wondered.

Mom and dad said grandma also couldn't see very well because of “Glaucoma." They explained it was a word dressed up, like a robber, taking away her window to the world.

“But, your grandma still has feelings,” said dad, “even though she may not say the words. On our next visit, watch her face when she’s sitting beside the lounge window. Don't say anything, just watch."

Dennis nodded his head. Sometimes he didn’t listen. This time he did.

During their next visit he did watch as grandma Irene sat in her wheelchair. Her usual smile almost made her wrinkled skin disappear. A raspy sound came from her throat. Humming soon floated throughout the room. There weren’t any words, just a soft melody. Grandma seemed content, sitting and staring out the window, lips moving.

“What is she looking at?” Dennis whispered to himself. He looked over at mom and dad. Would they be the same, someday? The question often lingered, like a pesky mosquito.

Then Dennis noticed a chickadee on the outside window ledge staring directly at his grandmother. Its half-opened beak and tilted head seemed to be listening to the vibrations of song working its way through the glass.

The boy hardly breathed, eyes wide with interest. Grandma Irene was smiling as she continued to hum. Yes, she was singing to the bird. The boy was sure the bird could hear since the feathered creature soon answered with his own song.

In the car on the way home, Dennis poked his dad's shoulder. "Do you think the chickadee was really singing to grandma?" His parents didn't answer right away. Maybe they figured Dennis had to work it out for himself.

Before climbing into bed this evening, he felt grandma's warmth in his room. She was such fun. He remembered she always had a song on her lips. And her smiling face could cheer up anyone needing a friend.

He leaned his head to the side, like the chickadee did this afternoon. It was a comfortable feeling. The same as when he was a little boy needing an answer to a question. Grandma used to pull him into her lap and hum quietly as he fell asleep.

He told her of his dreams. At first, he wanted to be a Forest Ranger, then a Jet Pilot. She told him, “Be anything you want, like a flower that glows with beautiful colors.”

Dennis looked through his window into the night sky. It sparkled as a garden full of diamonds. It was alive with excitement, almost like grandma's garden. As he lay in bed, understanding swept over him like an extra blanket.

"Goodnight Grandma Irene. I love you," Dennis said out loud. He began to hum his own made-up tune. It was filled with a wagonload of good thoughts.

"Your grandma is like a rose," his father said earlier at the supper table. "She's a special flower in a garden surrounded by her loving family. That's why her face is full of smiles."
Dennis had listened to every word.

"She has accomplished many of her dreams," dad also said. "And you play a special part in her memories."

Before closing his eyes this evening, the boy decided to plant a rose bush this summer. Like grandma’s garden, his would grow many smiles. And Dennis promised to have the brightest one of all.

- The End -

© Richard & Esther Provencher