Married in red, wish you were dead

I heard "Married in red, wish you were dead" so often from my grandmother. Anytime my grandmother visited us or we visited her we would hear her say this phrase and tell the story of her wedding. It wasn't until I was a teenager that more of the story came out for me to ponder.

All my life I knew my grandmother had married in a burgundy colored suit. She married my grandfather in the 1920s. Even though they were called the roaring twenties things were tight for my grandmother and her family.

When it came time to marry, my grandmother chose to wear her newest suit. That suit just so happened to be a shade of red. A dark shade of red but never the less red. Her mother was appalled by this. Apparently my great grandmother was a Gibson girl. We have a photo of her and she looks exactly like Charles Dana Gibson drawings. She loved to be dressed well. She was a beautiful woman, too. Being mightily offend by the choice, my great grandmother apparently recited part of a Victorian saying about the colors one would wear to be married. Perhaps she said it over and over again. But my grandmother was a stubborn woman and would not back down.

So later, apparently my grandmother started to believe this. When I was a teenager my grandmother told me she wished she had listened to her mother. My grandmother truly began to believe that her life was messed up because of not wearing the proper color. I couldn't believe this because I had spent most of my life thinking that my grandmother found it amusing. When she spoke of that phrase in the past she was never mournful or bitter. Grandma just would tell us that that is what her mother thought of her choice.

I know that my grandmother had a hard life. She had five children. Her sister didn't have any. One time her sister asked my grandmother for my father since my grandmother had so many. I know that that caused a bit of a break in their relationship for awhile. Also my grandmother ended up having to support the family.

Back before anyone really knew anything about Alzheimer's my grandfather most likely had it. It started with him not bringing home his paychecks. Then after awhile he would not come home. Finally things climaxed to the point that my grandfather was admited to the state hospital. You know the state hospital, the insane assylum. My grandfather died at the age of 54. He couldn't remember his children and rarely remembered his wife. This devasted the family. I also know that my grandmother was sickly. I don't know exactly what ailed her but I know she was considered fragile. So these are the difficulties she dealt with throughout her life.

The woman I knew was admirable. She became a LPN at the age of 50. She learned to drive a car at an older age than most. I think it was around 50 or 60 years of age. After she retired from nursing she volunteered at the hospital. She made afghans, booties, hats and sweaters for patients. She made Rosaries for the missions. Most fascinating was her praying. My grandmother prayed at Noon every day of her life until she was taken down by the ravages of the very same disease her husband died of. No one and I mean no one ever interrupted her. The Infant of Prague was dear to her heart. She had a statue of him. And true to traditions she would change his vestments with the seasons. She was truly a dynamic person.

Perhaps the sorrow and bitterness I witnessed in my late teens and early twenties was the result of the Alzheimer's. Alzheimer's research suggests that people with the disease start displaying much earlier than we realize. Little things like the use of simpler grammar and syntax these are the things we don't notice at first. I know that the disease robbed our family of a very delightful woman. As the disease advanced my grandmother got mean. We all were so surprised. We couldn't believe that this sour, dour individual was the woman we all knew and loved.

After I got married I took Passionfruit to visit my grandmother. While we were visiting her, she looked at my husband and smiled her sweetest smile and asked him whether he had done is good deed for the day. Passionfruit was rather surprised by this and wasn't sure how to answer. I told him to go ahead and ask her what she wanted. What I failed to mention is my grandmother at this point couldn't recognize anyone and pretty much sat in her wheelchair doing nothing. I mean nothing. No interaction just sitting there. So when she asked that I was so happy because that was a common phrase my grandmother used throughout her life. Of course what she wanted was the boots to be removed from her feet. They were there to keep her from getting bedsores. Watching her like this was one of the saddest things in my life. We never went back and visited.

In 1998 my grandmother finally passed away. She was 97 years. My grandmother had out lived most of her friends and her generation. Her funeral was small-- only the next two generations were there. The third generation couldn't find the time to show up to their great grandmother's funeral. Sad.