It’s hard to write anything right now. I want to do it; I take farm photos for posts, but then when I sit down to write the words, I feel like these are frivolous things to say and show to anyone.
My heart breaks daily as I see Gramma Izzie’s health and strength declining, little by little. The woman who was mowing her own lawn last summer has to use a walker now and barely has the stamina to go from her bed to the living room recliner. She can no longer be alone for fear that she will attempt to do something she could do a few weeks ago and fall and break her hip.
We had Easter Dinner at her house at her insistence. It was a carry in dinner, and it was loud and chaotic. We could barely hear her when she would speak; she just sounded so frail.
She keeps saying it would mean so much to her to see a calf born again on the farm before she dies. We’re not even sure the bull has done the job as he’s been with the cattle for a year now, and no one has had a calf yet. The girls LOOK pregnant, but who knows?
Gramma is under a hundred pounds now. It’s like she’s just wasting away before my eyes. Every time I see her, it’s all I can do to keep it together, but I have to keep it together for my kids.
It’s so unfair. This was not supposed to happen. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over this happening to her although she tells me I will. I’m pretty sure she’s wrong.
Grampa Eddie and Gramma Izzie many years ago (1990? 1994?)