Marion Elizabeth Purdon

A few weeks ago I was expressing to Mike how blessed I felt to still have both sets of grandparents around. I was feeling particularly grateful to be able to receive advice from them and watch them relish in the joy of great-grands. There is something so special about watching a grandparent or a great-grandparent hold your child. They cherish and love them like only a grandparent can and as I study their faces and the light in their eyes I can see that they know deep down how truly fleeting these years can be. Life can change so quickly.

The week before Christmas my mom took my Gramma in to the hospital to get some stomach pains checked out. It didn't sound too serious at first and then they started running some tests and debating whether or not to go ahead with a surgery. The next day I woke to texts from siblings and a few missed calls. My brother, sister, and I spent the morning wondering if we should make the trip to Red Deer to visit Gramma at the hospital. With both of them being down South already it would be easy enough to carpool up and make an afternoon of it. They met at my house and my wonderful sister-in-law offered to watch my littles while we went. It was nice to be together, just the three of us (and Ollie) again.

We arrived at the hospital close to 3:00PM prepared to say our final good-bye's to Gramma. We notified my Dad of our arrival and he met us in the parking lot with news of my Gramma's passing. We had just missed her. As we all huddled in the safety of my Dad's arms, the tears began to fall. We slowly made our way up to Gramma's hospital room and met with my mom, cousins, aunt, and uncle. It happened so fast, it was all quite shocking. I was so grateful I had made the special trip out to visit at the Acreage after Ollie was born so that she could meet him but wished more than ever that she would have let me take a picture of the two of them together. She wasn't feeling well that day and wouldn't let anyone have a picture unless her hair was done. It's one of the things that I love about my Gramma. She always liked to look her best!

Over the last few weeks memories and thoughts of my Gramma have been on my mind. Especially at this time of year, knowing how much she liked the Christmas lights and the holiday season. I already miss her butter tarts, pies, and Christmas pudding.

My Gramma was born in 1935 to Florence Priscilla Caskanette and Walter William George Smith. She attended a one room community school house in Bruce County up until grade eight when she was offered a position in a nurse training program at a nearby hospital.  She met my Grampa at a Christmas concert put on by the school and he asked her to dance. She spent the next few years nursing in London at a children's hospital before marrying my Grampa and settling on a farm in Wingham, Ontario. They raised five kids on the farm and she cooked for many men during harvest season. She would often tell me stories of the pies and rolls that they made each night for dinner.

Before my Grandparents moved here, they would make the drive from Ontario once each Summer for a long visit. Whenever I think of my Gramma visiting us at the farm I think of her soft molasses cookies that she would bake for us to enjoy. She would keep them in an empty ice cream pail above the fridge. She always wore a yellow jacket and watched us blow bubbles and jump on the trampoline. Her hair was short, dark black, and permed with tight curls. Shortly after we sold the farm my grandparents moved out West and we bought houses side by side in town. A few years later we moved to the Acreage and my parents added an in-law suite to the house. I have been blessed to live next to my grandparents for over half of my life!

When I think of my Gramma I remember her in the kitchen. She was always baking or cooking and their house always smelled of spices and garlic. She could make raspberry jam from tomatoes and pumpkin pie from mashed carrots or squash without anyone even suspecting a thing. She was talented! She knew how to spice a dish and make the best pie crust. When we had big family gatherings she would make a big roaster full of mac n' cheese for the kids. Even when we all grew up she still made it for us. We would heap it on our plates and always go for seconds. It was topped with loads of cheese and crushed soda crackers. She was never allowed to cook growing up and learned a lot of what she knew after she was married. She became quite the cuisinista in her lifetime. She taught me that the "whizzer" is the best kitchen tool and only way to make banana bread turn out like hers.

Gramma was a tom boy. This Summer I learned that she played in a women's baseball league until she was three months pregnant and decided to stop because she was so competitive she couldn't help but slide into the bases. I watched as she sat beside Hyrum on the bench outside her front door and taught him how to place his glove on the ground to catch a grounder. At 81 years old she was still crouching over to show him the correct way to place his glove on the ground so that he wouldn't get a ball to the face.

She had a love for animals and especially loved children. We had many conversations surrounding motherhood and she gave me a lot of advice. She gave up nursing shortly after the children came along and never understood why women would want to work outside the home. She had her fair share of flack, even then, for staying home to raise five children instead of continuing her nursing career. She found joy in homemaking and creating beautiful doilies, crochet angels and stars for the Christmas tree, big warm afghans to keep her family warm, and good food to fill our tummies. She did all of this with joy and optimism. She was chipper even through trials. As she shared her stories of raising children I sensed that she understood well what I was going through with our little family. Whenever I'm having a hard Mommy day I think of her and the many conversations we've had and her words echo in my head, "You're doing a damn good job." Now she's cheering me on from the other side.

My Gramma Purdon instilled in me a love for baking and crochet. When I was ten she taught me how to crochet and I successfully made and gifted two baby blankets. I cherish the time we spent together conversing at her kitchen table as she guided me through my granny square patterns and helped me whip stitch the pieces together. Every time I'd go visit her I would admire her crochet afghans draped over the railing. Knowing how much time and effort goes into something like that makes them all the more special and wonderful. I find myself being a little more careful with the one she made for me when I was a teenager. 

Whenever the great grands came to visit she would give them a chocolate from her special candy dish (but just one). They would suck on it while they gave hugs and told them about things going on. It has been a privilege to live beside them for over half of my life as they silently observed and found joy in our successes. She loved talking to the babies when I'd bring them over and enjoyed their smiles. After nursing a children's hospital she always had advice for fussy babes. She is the only one that Joe allows to call him "Joey". One of her favorite phrases was "crikey sakes".

She was thoughtful and quick to share her feelings. She always told us how much she loved us and cried when we would leave for our own homes.  Her hugs were long and heartfelt, always coupled with an "I miss you's!" It was tradition for us to roll down the windows on the van and have the kids shout their good-bye's as she waved us off from the deck with tears in her eyes.  She took special care of Grampa cooking healthy things to keep his energy up. She loved to serve her family and worked hard to make others happy.

I feel so lucky that she has made every one of my Littles a special white blanket for their blessing day like she did for me and my siblings when we were babies. The other day Ollie was a little bit cold after being outside with us so I grabbed the blanket off the back of the rocker and threw it over him to warm him up while I nursed. Gramma was sure to send it up early and insisted Oliver would need something to keep him warm with the chill of Winter creeping up. Tears stung my eyes as I wrapped him in it and remembered her. She made a few extra white blankets and I promised my siblings that I would carry on the tradition for their kids if they wanted me to. I have five of these handmade white baby blankets plus my own from when I was a babe and they are treasures. Before I had finished nursing I slid my hand under the blanket to find two toasty warm baby feet, and I felt my Gramma near. Every time I crochet I will think of her.