We were seated in the front row, and I got to catch up with my paternal grandmother Mamaw before the procession. She was helped to her seat, with diabetic shoes on and an oxygen tank to boot. Poor Mamaw has been hit with so many ailments, she seems to always be struggling through a health crisis. Year after year she tells us this might be time, that she is on her way out. Year after year, the impending birth of a new great-grandchild (guilty!), a family wedding, or a visit keeps her hanging on. I kid you not when I say that my grandmother has been "about to die" for 25 years. And for the past two weeks she has declared that this is it. She is ready to go, it is her time, she is only waiting 'til after Jeremy's wedding.
With that said, I was happy to sit and catch up with her (one last time, right?), and listen to her chat to Phoenix. As the wedding started, and Jeremy walked up on the stage, Mamaw began to utter little exclamations of adoration: "Oh! Oh! He's so handsome... Oh! He looks just like his Daddy." Jeremy does look a lot like our Dad, Mamaw's eldest son. And the sight of him looking so handsome up there made us miss Dad so much, we both sat there a bit teary-eyed and sentimental. The ceremony continued, and I could hear Mamaw continue to make small noises and pray under her breath. It all seemed quite usual to me, as she has often told us her prayers are what have kept us all safe.
So the ceremony ended, my cousin came with the golf cart to move Mamaw, and I went to the reception tent. Not long after, another cousin came up to me at the reception and whispered that Mamaw had just been taken the local hospital and then life-flighted to a larger hospital. We stood there disbelieving. Could this be "it?" Could she have been right, and just barely kept her word about sticking around for the wedding? We giggled nervously, shifted in our seats and hoped for the best. We recounted the many times Mamaw had been hospitalized over the years, and the legendary tale of the time (25 years ago) that she actually did die, and was resuscitated. We were raised on her story of "seeing the light and feeling God's love" so this was a familiar recounting of family lore, as we waited for further word of her condition.
We didn't have long to wait. Early into the evening I got a call from my Uncle Ed. The grandmother of nine lives had rebounded! The doctors had put in a pacemaker (add undiagnosed heart troubles to her list!) and she had perked right up, regained her orientation, and lost the swelling in her feet. My Uncle chuckled that she had another 25 years in her now, so we could all rest easy. While I was relieved by this news, it did nothing to mollify the dawning horror. All those little "Oh! Oh!" wedding noises and the praying going on right beside me? Were the sounds of my poor dear grandmother in distress and on the cusp of expiring!
And I thought it was just my handsome brother making her ferklempt...
So there we have it. An arrest and a life-flight. Two little dramas to round out a wedding weekend. :)