Tonight, I received notification (through Facebook) that my paternal grandmother, Margaret Elinor Parsons, had died. She was 104 years old.
Margaret, or "Gram" as she called herself, was married to Lawrence Clarke Apgar, the brother of Virginia Apgar (who developed the APGAR score for newborn babies). They were the parents of my father, Richard Apgar, who was the youngest of their three sons.
My father, Rick Apgar, died in 1984 in a glider accident. My uncle, Peter Apgar, died just months ago from complications with diabetes. Both men were kind and quiet people as was my grandmother.
I have a very blurry memory of her from when I was around five years old after my parents had divorced. I don't know if my grandparents were in Albuquerque where my dad was living, or if they were driving me back to Lubbock (Texas) where my mother lived. However, I remember sitting in the back seat of the Volkswagen and singing with her. In fact, she and my grandfather taught me how to sing my ABC's backwards, ending it with "Now I know my ZYX's, now you know I live in Texas." My grandfather was a professional musician, and it comes as no surprise that he worked that phrase out for me to sing :-)
Despite the fact that there was a great division between my mother and the Apgar family, Gram would write me letters at least once a year on my birthday. I had a knowledge of who she was, but her position as a grandparent had been replaced by my stepfather's parents (the Caruthers from Florida). It wasn't until I married and divorced myself from my stepfather that I reconnected with her. I brought my entire family over to Maryland to see her and to introduce her to my children. This was back in the 90's, and I assumed that I would lose her any day. Little did I think that she would live almost 20 years more! We had several opportunities to visit her, and she was always welcoming to the chaos of our young family. In fact, she was more than happy to listen as my children's young voices would sing song after song for her. She would send me writings from her years as an editor, and thoughts about her own childhood. She had spent her summers with her family in the Poconos, and it was evident that it was a cherished time of her life. Too, she was a female athlete in the 1940's--a very rare thing to be! I filed the stories away, knowing that when she was gone, it was all I was going to have of her.
Just two years ago, Mark and I went by her apartment to visit her. Unbeknownst to me, her family had moved her from Maryland to Grand Rapids, Michigan. She seemed terribly lonely there, and it was heartbreaking for me to see her.
With that, I feel great loss for the fact that she's no longer here on earth, but I can only imagine how happy she is to be reunited with her family. Her husband, Larry, died over 25 years ago, and like the relationship that John and I have, he was the extrovert, always bringing in friends and entertaining. With his death, she was left very much alone. Two of her three sons have already died. While she still lived independently, she couldn't see or hear very well anymore, causing the loss of the ability to read, knit and do puzzles. (Mark actually still sleeps with a blanket that she knit for him as a baby. He loved that blanket so much that it began to fall apart and had to be sewn together in order to save it. It's no surprise to me that Mark is now a knitter, seeing how much he loved that blanket for so many years, burying his thumb into the cable knit.) The last letter I received from her came a few years ago, and it was obvious that she could no longer see what she was writing on the paper.
Besides giving me the gift of her letters and writings, she also entrusted me with some original photographs of her family, including her father, and her grandparents. She knew that nothing else would come to me after her death and that the Apgars certainly wouldn't share any of her few possessions. More than that though, and one of my most treasured possessions, she gave me a box of letters that my father wrote to her during the time he was married to my mother and after I was born. It's the only thing of his that I own, and I will forever praise her name for giving me those. What a gift!
Again, I am so happy that she has been freed from the shackles of this world. She was a very quiet woman, living in a very loud and demanding world. I know that she felt out of place most of her life, and I'm hoping that she now feels very much at home in heaven, reunited with the family that she loves.
I will receive no phone call about her death nor be given any details about any kind of memorial service. The Apgar family doesn't include me as one of their own. It's a sad thing for me because I have so little extended family. In fact, with the death of Gram, I now have two living family members, my mother and her father, Wallace McMillin. No siblings, no cousins, no aunts or uncles. It's hard, losing the few family members that I have. I'm thankful though that she never forgot about me. While the rest of the Apgars went on their merry way, she remembered that I was out there, and she showed an interest in my life and in my family. How thankful I am to know too that we can all be together again as a family. Death is a cheat for the living, but it's a gift for those who pass on.
Here's to Gram's new life. May it be a great one! Thanks for loving me, Gram.
Margaret, or "Gram" as she called herself, was married to Lawrence Clarke Apgar, the brother of Virginia Apgar (who developed the APGAR score for newborn babies). They were the parents of my father, Richard Apgar, who was the youngest of their three sons.
My father, Rick Apgar, died in 1984 in a glider accident. My uncle, Peter Apgar, died just months ago from complications with diabetes. Both men were kind and quiet people as was my grandmother.
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| Larry and Margaret (Parsons) Apgar |
Despite the fact that there was a great division between my mother and the Apgar family, Gram would write me letters at least once a year on my birthday. I had a knowledge of who she was, but her position as a grandparent had been replaced by my stepfather's parents (the Caruthers from Florida). It wasn't until I married and divorced myself from my stepfather that I reconnected with her. I brought my entire family over to Maryland to see her and to introduce her to my children. This was back in the 90's, and I assumed that I would lose her any day. Little did I think that she would live almost 20 years more! We had several opportunities to visit her, and she was always welcoming to the chaos of our young family. In fact, she was more than happy to listen as my children's young voices would sing song after song for her. She would send me writings from her years as an editor, and thoughts about her own childhood. She had spent her summers with her family in the Poconos, and it was evident that it was a cherished time of her life. Too, she was a female athlete in the 1940's--a very rare thing to be! I filed the stories away, knowing that when she was gone, it was all I was going to have of her.
Just two years ago, Mark and I went by her apartment to visit her. Unbeknownst to me, her family had moved her from Maryland to Grand Rapids, Michigan. She seemed terribly lonely there, and it was heartbreaking for me to see her.
With that, I feel great loss for the fact that she's no longer here on earth, but I can only imagine how happy she is to be reunited with her family. Her husband, Larry, died over 25 years ago, and like the relationship that John and I have, he was the extrovert, always bringing in friends and entertaining. With his death, she was left very much alone. Two of her three sons have already died. While she still lived independently, she couldn't see or hear very well anymore, causing the loss of the ability to read, knit and do puzzles. (Mark actually still sleeps with a blanket that she knit for him as a baby. He loved that blanket so much that it began to fall apart and had to be sewn together in order to save it. It's no surprise to me that Mark is now a knitter, seeing how much he loved that blanket for so many years, burying his thumb into the cable knit.) The last letter I received from her came a few years ago, and it was obvious that she could no longer see what she was writing on the paper.
Besides giving me the gift of her letters and writings, she also entrusted me with some original photographs of her family, including her father, and her grandparents. She knew that nothing else would come to me after her death and that the Apgars certainly wouldn't share any of her few possessions. More than that though, and one of my most treasured possessions, she gave me a box of letters that my father wrote to her during the time he was married to my mother and after I was born. It's the only thing of his that I own, and I will forever praise her name for giving me those. What a gift!
Again, I am so happy that she has been freed from the shackles of this world. She was a very quiet woman, living in a very loud and demanding world. I know that she felt out of place most of her life, and I'm hoping that she now feels very much at home in heaven, reunited with the family that she loves.
I will receive no phone call about her death nor be given any details about any kind of memorial service. The Apgar family doesn't include me as one of their own. It's a sad thing for me because I have so little extended family. In fact, with the death of Gram, I now have two living family members, my mother and her father, Wallace McMillin. No siblings, no cousins, no aunts or uncles. It's hard, losing the few family members that I have. I'm thankful though that she never forgot about me. While the rest of the Apgars went on their merry way, she remembered that I was out there, and she showed an interest in my life and in my family. How thankful I am to know too that we can all be together again as a family. Death is a cheat for the living, but it's a gift for those who pass on.
Here's to Gram's new life. May it be a great one! Thanks for loving me, Gram.
Your shared love is obvious and will only increase now. My thoughts are with you today.
ReplyDeleteYour grandmother sounds like an amazing, kind, and sweet person. I'm sorry for your loss and also hope her new life is a great one.
ReplyDeleteWe love you Aris and though you will miss your Gram, she is looking down on you with clear spiritual eyes and can see your happiness with more clarity.
ReplyDelete