Cherí ... My Legacy of Love: 15. Warrior in The General's Army

As a kid, my sisters and I were blessed to have extended family members close by and involved in our daily and weekly activities. (Most of the nearby family was on my father's side, as mother's side of the family primarily still lived in Scotland.) Aunt Marion (my father's eldest sister) and Uncle Jim (her husband) lived a couple miles away and were always just a phone call away. (Jim was our dentist, so we were guaranteed to see him at least twice a year, anyhow.) There were countless Sunday family dinners, birthday celebrations and every major holiday was spent together. Marion gave us our first jobs - housecleaning for her. At the time, I never realized that she really didn't need her house clean, for it was always immaculate. Likewise, Jim's dental office never really needed the cleaning he hired us to do each week. We did it, though, and were happy to have jobs outside the fast food industry. It wasn't until I became an aunt myself that I realized their reasons for hiring us were more about them wanting to help us learn the responsibilities of having a job and finding a way to help us financially as teenagers. I will always be grateful for these lessons, for they helped shape my character. (And, it was an added bonus to leave their home those workdays with one of Marion's freshly baked home-made chocolate cakes. Slice of heaven on Earth!)

My father's parents lived fifteen minutes away. Not a day went by when we didn't see or talk with them. Sometimes, we'd talk to them three, four times a day. The times Grandpa answered the phone were few and far between, but all he had to do was hit the buzzer under the kitchen counter by the phone and Grandma would pick up the other phone in the bedroom. (We counted often ... last count totaled twenty-two phones in their residence, including the garage and basement.) If we were sick, mom loaded us into the blue Caprice Classic station wagon and drove to her job as a bank loan officer in Point Loma. Grandpa would have parked their car in the same spot as always, and Grandma would greet us with open arms as we jumped from the Chevy wagon into their white, Crown Victoria (think police car). We would spend the day cuddled on the couch, watching game shows, soap operas and terrible daytime television. Grandma would make us whatever we wanted to eat and she always had a plate of my oranges prepared for me - sliced rounds with ample powdered sugar on top. Mostly, we snacked on stale ginger snaps, popcorn, miscellaneous treats of candy stashed throughout the house, and soda. They kept a separate refrigerator in the laundry room stocked with every brand of soda you could imagine, and Grandpa's stash of beer (non-alcoholic, of course). If we spent the night, we were awakened the next morning by the three beeps on the microwave indicating Grandpa's coffee was ready. Bacon soon followed.

Many summer days were spent the same way with our Grandparents. Sometimes Grandma would take us shopping. We'd go to Fashion Valley and have lunch at Broadway (old department store). We would order a hamburger and fries and sit in the green, plastic booths. Grandma only ever had a salad or soup. She would take us to Penny's (aka JC Penny's) for she thought it was the bees knees. She worked there many, many years ago. She'd buy us an outfit or new shoes or underwear, whatever we needed. We'd wash their cars and Grandpa would hand us a twenty. He wasn't much for hugs, but we knew the twenty was his own special kind of hug for us. They attended our school events, supported our interests, advised us on important matters. Grandpa recorded television shows for us back in the days of VCRs and VHS tapes. Grandpa also bought us our first typewriter and we thought we were so rad because it had correction ribbon. He encouraged us to read the newspaper daily and it's a habit I still have today. Grandma was always telling us to stand up straight and get the hair out of eyes. She liked our hair pulled back so she could see our faces. She had a witty, smart-ass sense of humor, but more so was recognized for her dictator type charm. She was known to many as simply The General. If she had an opinion on a matter, she had no reservation about telling us, or anyone, what was the proper position on said matter. Be it politics, the best game show, how to wear our hair, when and where we should vacation, etc., Grandma had the answers. She made the answers. She was the matriarch of the family, immediate and extended. She ran the show. If she said jump, you'd had better already been jumping by the time she finished her instruction.

She was tough as nails, yet sweet as sugar; strong as an ox while as gentle as a light spring breeze. Demanding, stubborn and direct, all while she loved unconditionally and shared her loaf of bread with every brother that she met. She was thunder and lightning, yet the harbor of love and shelter in the storm.

Random thoughts there, but my point is simply that our grandparents were an incredibly important part of our lives from day one. They helped mold us into the women we are today. We often wonder what Grandpa would think of today's society of high technology, politics, the internet and computers. He was the smartest, classiest man we ever knew. (Nephew Mitchell Cyrus is named after him and I tell you, Mitchell is his intellectual twin.) And he would be the first to tell you that he married the best woman on Earth.

I'm sure all grandparents tell each grandchild at some point or another that they are the favorite grandchild. It's their duty to not have favorites but to let each of us believe we are that favorite. And, I believe with all my heart that I was my Grandma's favorite. (Siblings & cousins - we can ask her when we see her next and confirm, k? Until then, this is my blog and, well, for the sake of the story, let me have this one for now.)

Grandma Greaves started to prepare for her death a good twenty-plus years before she would actually pass away. She would ask us to put our name on a post-it note or label and place it behind any materialistic item found in her home. She asked me once what I wanted when she was about to die. I wrote my post-it note and gave it to her. That note hung in her cupboard closet 'til the day she died. Today, it's in my possession. It reads: "When the time comes for my grandma and grandpa to die, I want them not to." She made the rules, I was certain she could make that happen.

I was very close to my Grandma. I loved her more than anything in the world, save for my mother and sports. We had a special bond that as I think about even today, nearly fifteen years after her death, was unique and special. Her death in July 1998 was the beginning of the worst summer of my life (Cruel Summer of 2009 gets its own category). However, on the ten year anniversary of her death, instead of focusing back on how tragic that summer had been, I decided to honor my Grandma in a way that meant something to me on a personal level. I got a tattoo. It's two sevens formed together (she died 7-7) to form a box with the words in the middle reading Love Never Fails.

Breast cancer wasn't something Dora's generation spoke of often or openly. Instead, it was rather taboo. I knew Grandma had survived breast cancer for she only had one breast. She wasn't embarrassed by it and quite honestly, I think her battle against breast cancer was remarkable. She was blessed with a loving, supportive family and had the love of her life holding her hand each and every step. Cy didn't care one ounce about the physical scars the cancer left. All that mattered was his wife was left here to live on.

"Cy and I have been very fortunate and greatly blessed in almost every way during our married life. I suppose our first frightening experience was Marion's birth. I suffered a severe hemorrhage and almost died. This was especially difficult for Cy, but he exercised his faith and we along with our families were very prayerful. The Lord blessed us and in a few months I was doing fine. At age 34 years, I had a mastectomy (cancer of the breast). This was a horrible, frightening experience. The operation was performed in Boise, Idaho, March 18th, 1942 (Gary's birthday) by Doctor Harold Nakes. It caused us much concern and worry. Marion was only eight years old, Doreen was five years old, and Gary was three years old. I didn't want to die and leave them for Cy or anyone else to raise. Again, we called upon the Lord to help us. It required a lot of faith, prayers, and understanding to make it through the next five years, as that was considered the most dangerous period. Again we were greatly blessed and I was permitted to live and raise our family. There is no way I can express my gratefulness to my Father in Heaven for this blessing." (Excerpt from Dora Greaves' journal)

So there I was, 34 years old, just like my Grandmother had been when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was feeling lost in the maze of doctors and uncertainty. The tornado of medical chaos and confusion was picking up steam and I was in its midst.

"Grandma? Can you hear me? I know you're there. You promised you'd always be here for me, even after you were gone," I muttered to the wind. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I'm confused. I don't want to die. I promised the kids I'd be around for a long, long time. Why aren't you here?"

I would have given anything to have her soft, delicate hands place themselves on my cheek or tuck my hair behind my ear. I craved her unique presence of simultaneous peace, love and feisty determination. I needed her strength, direction, advice. My childhood had taught me that when you are sick, you need Grandma.

She heard me. She spoke to me in the way she knew best - through her foundation of faith. The words of a hymn I had sang many times as child came to my mind:

The winds and the waves shall obey thy will:

Peace, be still.

Whether the wrath of the storm-tossed sea

Or demons or men or whatever it be,

No waters can swallow the ship where lies

The Master of ocean and earth and skies.

They all shall sweetly obey thy will:

Peace, be still; peace, be still.

They all shall sweetly obey thy will:

Peace, peace, be still

(Master, the Tempest is Raging - LDS Hymns)

I sang the song in my heart, for my voice frightens even me. But the tornado around me stopped. I felt an instant and distinct peace. Confusion, anger and fear were overcome by comfort, strength and a warrior's spirit. I knew what I had to do. It was as clear to me as the sky is blue after a storm. I had been sick ... and my Grandma's love for her grandchild comforted me. Love truly never fails.

"I hear you, Grandma. I hear you, " I whispered to the wind. I offered even a slight smirk.

August 19, 2009, I entered the office of Dr. F once again. I was no longer lost and weak. I was in control, (The General would be so proud) and I knew what needed to be done.

Peace, peace, be still.