Her Name Was Osie

Her friends called her Louise. Her children and grandchildren called her Grammy. I called her my mother-in-law.

My husband was the youngest of nine children, the last to move out on his own, and the last to get married. Ken introduced me to his mother on our second date, though he was beyond the age of needing her approval. What mattered to him was that we got along. Ken's mother and I had little in common, except that we both loved Ken. We started with that and got along just fine.

Grammy epitomized the ability to live in the present. She had few possessions, never lived in one place for long, and liked to be where the action was. Her one luxury was having her hair done once a week. Grammy didn't drive, so she relied on friends and family to take her shopping or to play bingo. She loved to cook and could feed a hungry crowd with whatever was in the refrigerator.

In the summer of 1982 Grammy moved into senior housing to live on her own for the first time in many years. Her apartment was furnished with donations from family and friends. As proud as she was of her new space, she was ready to hit the road on a moment's notice.

That autumn Ken and I were going home for Thanksgiving for the first time since we'd moved to Maine. All the planning and packing for two small children was worth it so we could spend the holiday with family. We were looking forward to the trip.

The afternoon before we left my sister-in-law called with sad news. It had been a couple days since anyone had talked to Grammy. One son thought she was staying with another son who thought she was with friends...while in fact she was at her apartment, found with her heart medication in her hand and a glass of water by her chair. We were going home for a funeral.

I remember little about that trip, beyond the sadness we felt. Everyone loved Grammy, and my children would never get the chance to know her.

I have been thinking quite a bit about Grammy and the life she lived. She did what she needed to do to take care of her family. She didn't hold grudges or worry about the future. Her life was simple and her needs few. She looked for the good in people, and she made the best of things along the way.

This Thanksgiving, in particular, I miss my mother-in-law. As I get older, and wiser, I think she and I would have more in common. And that would be a good thing.