Isnt’ 93 Wonderful?

Recently my dad was in the hospital having open heart surgery so my mother and I had some time to visit a cousin of hers. I hadn’t seen cousin Mary in a couple of years but when she answered the door I knew her immediately. She hadn’t changed all that much, just as cantankerous as ever. She was making wise cracks about herself and life at 93. Here’s how the conversation went.

“I’m going in 93 and everyone says isn’t it wonderful? I say no, it’s not wonderful! It’s terrible: I can’t see, I can’t hear and my knees hurt. Then the snow – the snow is miserable, winter is miserable. Now I can walk better with the walker (Here she demonstrates a two-wheeled push walker) and I have a stick, but not in this snow!”

She talks to me from her perch on the sofa. She has lived in this little row house in the city for over 60 years and raised her son and two grandchildren here. She still cooks for them on demand and the food is rich and delicious because my mother is often a guest. She proudly showed off her kitchen and told me she loves her new stove. She is wearing a navy blue and cream colored dress, her face aglow with rouge and powder set off with tiny pearl earrings.

“At my age, when I die, they’ll be nobody left to come see me!” She laughs and as she look me in the eye I see a bit of my grandmother in her face. My grandmother has been gone for over 30 years.

“My leg hurts terrible.”

My mother says to her, “have you ever had a heating pad?”