Every night Grandma Opal ‘set’ her hair. With a bit of water, she’d wind some strands of hair into a tight circle and secure it with criss-crossed bobby pins. She did this around the edges of her entire head.
The tedious ritual added numerous minutes to her nighttime regime, but she still did it faithfully. In the morning she’d take the pins out and coax out the curls. And then she’s back-comb the heck out of the top of her head.
(Sorry, Grandma, I said heck.)
She only washed her hair a couple times a week. When she did, she’d go into the laundry room, turn on the dryer, kneel on a folded towel and stick her head in the running dryer. This was WAY before safety precautions.
I’ll never forget the first time I saw her do that.
The discipline with her hair was mirrored in the rest her life. Her kitchen, for one, she’s save two green beans to put in her infamous Friday Night Casserole. Leftovers from the entire week, usually covered in cheese and baked. Somehow it was always oddly delicious.
The way she kept her house. Everything had it’s spot and lord help you if you moved it. She wouldn’t say anything but you best believe that knick-knack would be in its rightful spot within 5 minutes. I’m thinking now she probably dusted every dang day for it to be that clean…all the time.
(Sorry, Grandma, I said dang.)
But the one thing I’ll never forget is her strength. When my Grandad died so suddenly, although she had to be reeling, she was still serving. At home, at the viewing, at the service, and the reception. Checking in on her kids and grandkids, loving us through it all.
I had driven over from the coast for the days-long celebration of Grandad’s life. We congregated in the home that had given us all so much love. Family was abundant and helped buffer the harsh shock of loss. We sang and cried and laughed and then cried some more.
I’d planned on staying just two houses down with my parents that night, but I saw Grandma sit down (finally) and went over to her. I took her hand and whispered, “Do you want me to stay here tonight?” She smiled at me and said, “Tonight I want to be with my husband.”
I can only imagine what that night was like for her.
That comment has stuck with me since then and I think about her often when I face something challenging. A thing that blasts in out of nowhere and makes you question it all. I know without a doubt I get my stubbornness from her. (Because she told me so!) I’m hoping to carry on the strength part too.
