Martha Marie Swafford
And I didn't even know that 'Marie' was her middle name until today.
She was a hard woman. Not hard in the she'll-kick-your-ass sense, but hard in the you-can-give-her-cancer-four-times-and she'll-kick-it's-ass-every-time sense. She was hard in the pull-one-of-her-lungs-out-and-she'll-keep-ticking-like-the-energizer-bunny-into-the-next-century sense.
That isn't an exaggeration. She really did beat cancer four times. Kind of sad that she had to, though. She never smoked a day in her life, never drank. As a pastor's wife she was in church twice a week. She got plenty of exercise. She was conscious (hell, she was paranoid) about having a good diet. She smiled and laughed every day. She was the most deeply spiritual woman I think I'll ever meet.
She still got cancer four times. The last time she got it they really did pull a lung out of her and she really did keep going for fourteen years after. That's hard. I don't care who you are.
When she died last Saturday morning she was seventy-six years old and she weighed a pound for every year. So just this once, when people at her funeral turned to the ones next to them and said something like "she's better off", maybe they weren't spouting made-up bullshit.
I keep trying to remember an honest, heartfelt story of her. All that comes to me is a vision of me being very little (or at least feeling that way) while she sat on the edge of my bed and reduced me to frantic, horrified tears with her stories of how she thought Armageddon would play out. I can't exactly fault her. Her heart was in the right place. And, honestly, if she hadn't scared me like she did I never would have read up on the history of the bible and I wouldn't have the progressive religious views I hold now. She solidified (if not shaped) my belief.
Whether she meant to or not she helped teach me to seek truth for myself. I owe her for that.
But even if that sort of thing could ever be paid back it can't now, not to her and not where she is.
All I can say today is...
I'm sorry Grandma, I love you, we all miss you, we will see you too soon and not soon enough.
Later.
She was a hard woman. Not hard in the she'll-kick-your-ass sense, but hard in the you-can-give-her-cancer-four-times-and she'll-kick-it's-ass-every-time sense. She was hard in the pull-one-of-her-lungs-out-and-she'll-keep-ticking-like-the-energizer-bunny-into-the-next-century sense.
That isn't an exaggeration. She really did beat cancer four times. Kind of sad that she had to, though. She never smoked a day in her life, never drank. As a pastor's wife she was in church twice a week. She got plenty of exercise. She was conscious (hell, she was paranoid) about having a good diet. She smiled and laughed every day. She was the most deeply spiritual woman I think I'll ever meet.
She still got cancer four times. The last time she got it they really did pull a lung out of her and she really did keep going for fourteen years after. That's hard. I don't care who you are.
When she died last Saturday morning she was seventy-six years old and she weighed a pound for every year. So just this once, when people at her funeral turned to the ones next to them and said something like "she's better off", maybe they weren't spouting made-up bullshit.
I keep trying to remember an honest, heartfelt story of her. All that comes to me is a vision of me being very little (or at least feeling that way) while she sat on the edge of my bed and reduced me to frantic, horrified tears with her stories of how she thought Armageddon would play out. I can't exactly fault her. Her heart was in the right place. And, honestly, if she hadn't scared me like she did I never would have read up on the history of the bible and I wouldn't have the progressive religious views I hold now. She solidified (if not shaped) my belief.
Whether she meant to or not she helped teach me to seek truth for myself. I owe her for that.
But even if that sort of thing could ever be paid back it can't now, not to her and not where she is.
All I can say today is...
I'm sorry Grandma, I love you, we all miss you, we will see you too soon and not soon enough.
Later.
posted by Louis at 2:00 AM
1 Comments:
you know, one of my most vivid memories of her is the time she told me and Leah about how she and Grandpa used to perform exorcisms, once over the phone even. I was like, ten, at the time. When Leah and I watched The Exorcism years later we were both terrified. Josh and Adam had no clue why.
-younger brother
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