I found out yesterday that my grandmother wants to die. I can’t say that I blame her, as she will be 101-years-old next week. I think she feels she has lost her reason for living.

When my grandmother was in her twenties (and this was in the 1930’s), back when women essentially held a status of servitude and total submission, she had received her master’s degree in French from Columbia University in New York. Then she got on a boat and moved to France to perfect her French, where she remained for nearly a year. She went alone, with no friends or family, and I’m sure her family was highly upset. Being the courageous woman she was, however, she was determined not to fail.

When she got back to the United States and married, she wrote frequent and unpopular letters to the editor of her local newspaper in a small town in Georgia. She was highly opposed to the legalization of alcohol in her county and made that well known (a point that she and I will just have to disagree on) but she stood firm to her beliefs.

As she got older, she suffered a number of instances of immeasurable grief. In her 90’s she fell and broke her shoulder, but that would not stop her! She was in the hospital for a while and then went to physical therapy. After she was released, she bought a pulley and had someone install it in her apartment so she could continue doing her physical therapy exercises. She recovered about 80% of the usage in her arm and shoulder due to her unfailing courage.

She had three children, and two of them died after she turned 90 years old. My uncle died of an aneurism and my father died of a brain tumor. Both deaths devastated her, but still she was determined to live through even the greatest heartbreak.

So she continued flossing three times a day, a habit she still has, and at the age of nearly 101, she has all her teeth. She drove her car until she was 98. She volunteered at the local hospital until she was 99, and had the highest seniority of all the volunteers because she had started working there when she was 83.

I had the privilege of living with Grandmom for a few years while I was in college. She cooked for me every day, woke me up to go to school, and frequently did my laundry (okay, so I was lazy!). I have to say she really loves me, and that means a LOT. I love her too, and when she dies, I think a piece of me will die as well. That is another reason I am upset to hear that she wants to die.