On Friday morning, we lost my beautiful grandmother to Alzheimer’s Disease. She was 95 years old. I saw her last around Christmas time. Though I’m sure she could no longer remember my name, she embraced me warmly as she always did, with a hug and kiss on the cheek. I am thankful that my last words exchanged with her were words of love.
Kay’s Engagement Announcement
Kay with her children, Ted, Kathy, Curt, and husband, Henry
I was born ninth in the sequence of Grandma and Grandpa Lind’s ten grandchildren (nine granddaughters and one grandson) which meant that most of my experiences with her were during her later years. Though my sisters and I had the privilege of being geographically closest to her, I often wish that I had more time with her when her mind and body were well. I’ve found myself wishing to know more of what she was like as a young girl, about her experiences growing up in Providence, RI, and her time as a young female interior design student at the Rhode Island School of Design. I wish that I had time to ask her for her shrimp dip recipe (an appetizer staple at all of our holiday meals) and for her to teach me how to watercolor a Beaux Arts rendering (she was an immensely talented artist, a trait that did not go uninherited).
I do cherish the time I got to spend with her shopping in Historic Fredricksburg, swimming at the lake in Locust Grove, and learning to play clock solitaire in her den. I thank her for teaching me the importance of hospitality and etiquette — the respect, love, and care inherent in a neatly made bed, a properly set table, a napkin across the lap, and a slowly eaten meal with mouth closed. I attribute my design sensibilities and good taste to her influence. I can only hope to mirror her class and dignity, dedication to family, and appreciation for heritage throughout the rest of my life.
Kay (standing in black), with her parents and sisters, Nancy and Avis.
I am so grateful that she is well and at peace now in heaven, watching over our family. She is missed dearly.
February 28, 2013