My Grandmother is a Painter

My mother, brother and I (and my dad - before my parents divorced about 8 or 9 years ago) would often travel in car to Maryland to visit my grandparents right after Christmas Day - only staying for that inbetween time. We didn't stick around for New Years Eve much. We visited other times, but the holiday season was a big deal.

So, my grandmother has this painting...I'm not sure when she painted it...or when I noticed it. It's a painting of her and my grandfather in a horse drawn sleigh. They are gliding across a snowy winter landscape. She would put it downstairs in her foyer, right around Christmas time....at least I think so. I never noticed it until this one visit, so I assumed she moved it downstairs because it was a seasonal picture. My grandmother has always had her paintings all around her home (and this house is pretty big).

I remember staring at it a few years ago and laughing a little.

My grandfather always struggled with diabetes and my mother would be on his case with that tough love grip. In the painting, she holding the reigns and the most prevalent color in the painting was a deep red. A red blanket covered her and my grandfather while my grandmother held red reigns. I remember asking my grandmother about the painting. I actually told her it was very interesting that she was the one holding on to those reigns. She didn't quite understand. I said something like, "You're the one in control of the relationship". She smirked and nodded and said she had never thought of it that way.

Now my grandmother is holding on tighter than ever before. I think of her a lot lately. See, my grandfather isn't doing so well. A few months ago had cancer - mellanoma (sp??), had it removed, but because he's aged quite a lot in past few years, they decided not to go through with treatment. The cancer spread. My grandfather had a stroke. Two tumors were found in his brain. Only in his brain. One of those tumors caused the stroke. My grandfather can't speak and is often unreactive. He had surgery. It was successful. The tumors were removed and he is cancer-free. Cancer-free and not the same person he was, wants to be, or will ever be again. One moment they think he's coherant, the next they are not sure if there is a sign of Martha's beloved Henry, of my mother's father, or of my grandfather. My mom was speaking to him and she cried. He began to cry to. She thought this was a sign. Is empathy the same as understanding? I started to wonder.

My mom was visiting her parents, taking care of her mom, visiting her father for about two weeks. When my mom left, my grandmother felt very alone. I never realized because she has always seemed so independant, so in control, so strong, that she has never been alone in her whole life. Henry and Martha, my grandparents, have known each other since they were 13 years old. They are best friends - as thick and thin as it seems. They now want to put my grandfather in a nursing home. He's just not recovering at the pace that the doctors anticipated.

"Can you help me figure out what to do by myself?" my grandmother asked my mom over the phone.

"Paint. Take a class." my mom says....then, she had a thought, "I'll be your student. Teach me how to paint this summer." she says.

I could pick up a paintbrush too.

My grandmother uses a lot of watercolors, but I have an oil painting of hers....sometimes it's good to try a new medium.