by Dandelion Doolittle

Created on: February 20, 2010

My childhood was abusive and tragic.  There was one person who made a difference in my life and that was my great grandmother.  Grandma Meek was always there for me when I needed someone to talk to.  She was my pillar of strength.  She saved me from a life of drudgery and doom, and I turned out to be a sane independent individual.

Grandma Meek found a joy in life and I found a safe haven in her home.  Even after my grandfather died, she lived alone for many years.  Her independence was her shield of armor.  Although she was 93, she maintained a kind of spunkiness that adorned her.  Each day she would put on a freshly starched pinafore to greet the postman who was about twenty years her junior.

Her abode was a simple two-story brick house, but the kitchen was in the basement.  We spent a lot of time in that kitchen. Always on hand were those small glass bottles of Dr. Pepper, and there would be the aroma of freshly baked pastries and bread.

In the living room was her prized possession, her piano.  Though her sight had diminished somewhat, she could still read music.  With her warbling voice she would gleefully sing along as she played.  She took great pride in her piano playing.

When I was about twelve, I asked Grandma Meek to show me how to play the piano.  Without hesitation she willingly agreed.  Henceforth, a very especial relationship began.  I looked forward to our productive visits and the opportunity to evade my problems at home.

One day during a summer month, I heard horrendous cries coming from the kitchen stairwell.  Grandma Meek had fallen down the steps on her way to the kitchen.  I immediately called 911.  An ambulance arrived and Grandma was transported to the hospital.  She had broken her hip.  Always being so lighthearted, she now had a grave disposition.  On one visit to the hospital, she said to me “I want you to have my piano.”  “But Grandma, you love that piano.”   I surprisingly replied.  “I won’t be going home.” she said in an abject tone.  Her independence was taken away.  There was an apathetic sadness about her now.  The family was moving her to a nursing facility.  She lost her will to live and passed away within a couple of months.

Grandma Meek gave me a foundation to have a productive life that I couldn’t get from my own parents.  I got her piano.  I resumed piano lessons for almost a year, but because of my mother’s criticism and wrathful behavior towards me, I had to stop.

Although my piano lessons didn’t come to fruition, I have many admirable memories of Grandma Meek.  I became a pastry chef, still drink Dr. Pepper and think about playing the piano again.

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