In Grandma Hildur's own words, written at age 87

A while back I uploaded the personal, handwritten history of my beloved grandmother, Hildur Westhed. Many peope have been in touch and said they enjoyed reading it, which I am sure Grandma would have been very proud to know! But that history was in Swedish, and now Dad has found another handwritten personal account from Grandma, this time in English.

Hildur Westhed, 100 years old

I love looking at this document. When I see her handwriting, it feels like she is still with us. She wrote this personal account in 1996, when she was "merely" 87 years old. But as those of you who had the privilege of knowing her personally, you know that she lived to be 101 1/2, and she was one of those people who managed to be young their whole life long, no matter how they may age physically. Despite spending her last years in a nursing home, she was forever interested in other people, in the details of their everyday lives, and was always quick to laugh. Also, despite being legally blind, she continued to write all through her life as well, including letters and cards in both English and Swedish.

Here is her own story, picking up from when she married my grandfather, Oscar, in 1943. (Scroll down to a previous post if you can read the Swedish, since that begins from when she was very young!)

Grandma's History Westhed Branch by Rachel Stenback

Three Years Old!

Happy birthday to my special little three-year-old, Yaminah!

Yesterday (Jan. 19) was her actual birthday, but we had her party a week before. Now that the floor has finally been cleaned of all of the tiny, colored sprinkles that had fallen on the floor, and the birthday is over, it is time for a report!

Yaminah has been so excited for her birthday (for all kinds of celebrations, really), so last night when she asked us happily, "Will you sing Happy Birthday to me tomorrow too?" and I had to tell her that her birthday would be over then, that it only lasts for one day, she burst into tears.  But I think that she has had a great birthday and party, and here are some of the hightlights to share with you.

First, we celebrated Tomas' birthday, which is on January 8. I know that Yaminah has a hard time keeping a secret, so this time I did not tell her exactly what Tomas would be getting as a gift. I did, however, inform her that I was buying a cake from a café, but I told her to keep it a secret. A little later, while I was at choir, I saw that Tomas posted this conversation on Facebook, and I will translate it here:

Yaminah: "I am not supposed to tell you that you are getting a cake."
Tomas: "But why are you telling me now then?"
Yaminah: "I am not telling you. I am just telling you that I am not supposed to tell you!"

With her quick mind, Yaminah sure keeps us on our toes. Some of her favorite activities now include doing puzzles and counting objects. She also loves her Duplo Lego, books (we read a lot), singing, Curious George, and her dolls. She knows all of the letters now, and is starting to understand that a few letters put together can make a word. Much to Tomas' annoyance sometimes at the supper table, she loves being quizzed. If I say a word, like "Birgitta," then she thinks it is great fun to guess what the first letter of the word is. She thinks for a moment, then yells, "IT'S B!" at which point Tomas usually says, "Good! Now no more quizzes, let's eat supper!" which Yaminah and I think is funny.

She has also started to understand some of the more serious aspects of life, such as death. Since her Grandpa Morfar (my grandfather) was seriously ill during Christmas vacation, and we were all worried about him, and since she knows her great grandma Hildur is now in heaven, she now understands more about what it is to die. When the tulips from her birthday party had wilted, she told Tomas during breakfast, "We should not say that the flowers have died. We should say that they are no longer living," she explained.  All in all, not a bad way to look at life, I think.

What is it about birthdays, and other milestones, that can make us nostalgic? I keep a birthday book for her, where I took notes from an interview I conducted with her (asking questions like what does she want to be when she grows up, when was she last sad, etc). In this book we also keep birthday cards. It is so much fun, but sometimes bittersweet, to look through old cards and letters. I especially want to revisit the handwriting of someone I miss. Here is a very special card Yaminah received when she turned one. Inside is a crisp one dollar bill, that we will of course save. My grandma Hildur, a real master of cards and correspondence, sent this to Yaminah was she was 100 years old. As we looked through these cards together, Yaminah said, "We should send Grandma Hildur a card!" and I looked at her and said, "But Yaminah, you know that she is in heaven now," to which she responded, "And can't we send her a card there?"

 

Named after her great grandma Hildur, I feel very privileged to be a part of watching Yaminah grow up, to see who she will become. I know Grandma would be so proud of her.

 

The day for the birthday party finally arrived. Yaminah's animal and Curious George-themed party was a hit! We decorated with colorful balloons, Yaminah chose her dress and jewelry, and two hours before the party, Yaminah went to her friend's party with Tomas for one hour. Sending them out of the house was a stroke of genius: while they were gone, and no one in my way, I was quickly able to set the table, put out the food, and add the final touches. The "fika" was great; this time we served two kinds of miniature cupcakes, peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, Brie cheese and crackers, and fresh fruit. (This amazing chocolate frosting recipe and cupcake recipes can be found on my "Recipes" page, here).

Then we had her awesome Curious George cake, and before everyone went home we served pancakes with lingonberry jam and cream. (A few friends were impressed that in the midst of the chaos, Tomas just stood there completely unaffected, happily making his pancakes! This is how he is--sometimes I want him to get more excited about something that is going on around him, or participate faster, but if you want someone to make a huge stack of delicious pancakes in the middle of a crazy, loud birthday party in an apartment, he's your man). Here is a glimpse of the excitement, as the kids danced and danced together.

 

All in all, it has been a nice birthday week. Yesterday on her actual birthday she woke up to her presents in the living room, and we heard her yell, "PAKET!" (presents in Swedish).

"Prinsesstårta", adorable cake hand-made by Yaminah's grandmother, her farmor

Then we had a nice breakfast of her choice (American pancakes with blueberries, fresh mango and fresh-squeezed orange juice). Then while I was away singing with my choir, Tomas and Yaminah went swimming. Yaminah had a blast. Later, our friends Rachel and family came over for birthday fika. When they had to go home because it was getting late, Yaminah asked, "Who is going to come over now?" and I explained that now it was time for bed soon, she was very sad. She wanted the party to continue!

And now she is sleeping peacefully as I share these words with you. Wishing you all the best from us here in Uppsala, from a happy three-year-old, and her tired, but proud, mother.

Letters & laughter: One year after Grandma

One year ago tomorrow became Grandma's last day on Earth, after 101.5 years. Thinking about this makes me mad actually. Even starting to write this makes me mad. But it also makes me sad. Sad, mad, sad, mad... these are of course natural feelings that people have when they lose someone who was close to them. But tonight I am not going to attempt to write an article on grief. Rather, I just want to sit and write a rambling letter as scattered as my own thoughts appear in my mind.

One year has passed without Grandma. This thought makes me mostly sad. Several times during the year I have caught myself thinking of wanting to do something for Grandma. I caught myself looking forward to sending our Christmas card to Grandma; same thing happened last Mother's Day, now Easter... I loved sending cards and letters to Grandma--probably because she was the one person who I knew truly appreciated it. That made it so much more fun. I actually did not know this, but she has probably kept every card and letter we have ever sent her in a box. Going through all of them after the funeral, it was a trip down memory lane for me as well. Cards and letters were a way to keep in touch with Grandma, even though I have been living in Sweden and China for the past 12 years. Of course we called as well sometimes, but cards felt more special. Grandma herself was a master of letters and correspondence in general. Even when she was nearly blind, she kept writing letters to people including in Sweden, in Swedish, a language she could write in although I am not sure how she did it.

The thing is, right now what I wish more than anything is that I could write another letter to Grandma. It would start like this, "Dear Grandma, we haven't talked for a whole year now and there is so much I want to tell you!" and then, first, I would tell her all about Yaminah, because she absolutely loved hearing about her and loved hearing all of the funny stories we would share. Then she would laugh and laugh.

But since I cannot write another letter to Grandma, and since I am getting tired of feeling mad that she died, I think it would be better to think back to her life. In reality, this could instead be a letter to Yaminah. If I had chosen to write a letter to Yaminah, it could begin like: "Dear Yaminah, do you want to hear again about your name? Yaminah Hildur Elisabeth...let me tell you about your Great Grandma Hildur. We talk about her every time you light a candle for her in church, but now I want to tell you what she was really like."

Then I would write about all kinds of random memories that pop up, like about the time when I was perhaps in high school (I am not the one with the good memory here; sorry folks--Grandma had the best memory!) and we were all sitting together for a nice dinner (can't remember the occasion; sorry--see my point?) Anyways, it was a nice dinner and I remember that I was trying to be nice and help Grandma, so I offered to get the gravy and pour it over her food for her, which I did. A little later Mom asked something like "Where is the butterscotch pudding?" and it turns out, that is what I had poured all over Grandma's nice dinner... and if my memory serves me right, all she said was "I thought it was a little sweet!" and then she laughed and laughed.

But most of my memories of Grandma and actually not so easy to put a finger on. They are more a long movie, with some individual scenes, but mainly the movie just keeps playing in my mind of all kinds of images. Playing outside at Grandma's old house when I was a kid; Grandma's delicious homemade cinnamon toast (have never tasted better); watching sports and Golden Girls at Grandma's; Grandma staying up way too late to sit up and visit with us when we came; Grandma's laughter when all of the people around her, Floyd & Marge, grandkids, other people... would tell stories... she never tired of visiting with people.

Always witty, you never could be sure of what Grandma's response would be. Right around the time of the China earthquake in 2008, just before I think, Grandma was very sick and in the hospital after a fall. Feeling emotional, I remember I called her from China. I said something like "I am just calling to say Happy Mother's Day, Grandma!" to which immediately responded, "I wish I could say the same to you!"

And in fact, when the time did (finally, she could say...) come for Tomas and I to have a baby, I called to tell her the news. I said something like "You're going to become a great grandmother!" to which she sort of mumbled, "It's about time!"

I will forever be grateful for the time that Yaminah and Grandma had. Grandma loved watching Yaminah sit, then crawl, then run; she thought it was hilarious to watch. (Here are a few moments on video). Grandma thought it was great that Yaminah used the potty when she was only a few months old, and I think on the third visit to Grandma with Yaminah, I had understood the hints about her clothes. Then Grandma said, "NOW you look like a girl!" when I finally dressed her in a very flowery summer dress.

I wish I could remember some of the great stories Grandma told us all about when she was young. Since she lived over a century and had such a great memory, everyone around her was able to experience her experiences through her stories. She told us about hearing the bells when World War I ended, and she ran out into the street. Luckily for everyone, she has summarized her life history in a document that we have, but can a life be summed up in just a few pages? No, but family history and details are documented.

I am afraid that if I would have been able to write a letter to Grandma, that it would have been very, very long. And if this would have been a letter to Yaminah, it would have been even longer. For how can one describe someone through a piece of paper?

Recently I have been thinking about the importance of memories, people, and time. Ten, fifty, two hundred years from now, will any of this matter? Is it important to remember our loved ones, the ones who have gone before us? Because one generation later, will they continue to be remembered? Of course some people will be documented in history more than others; some people will hold public office, will make great contributions to society that will enable them to be remembered, etc. Grandma did not make any gigantic contributions to society in the sense that the history books would require. She was a great lady, one that deserves to be remembered. But after thinking about this for quite a while, I do of course think that we should remember individuals in the past as much as we can. We all want to be remembered. But I think the most important thing is that we are who we are because of the individuals who have touched us in our past. We become changed, formed, from those who have touched us. And we will continue to influence all the others that we meet, whether they be our own kids, or our colleagues, strangers on the street...

If I would have been writing a letter now the old-fashioned way, like Grandma would have done it, my hand would have been cramping long ago and if it were Grandma who would have written, she would have ended with "I hope you can read this chicken scratching!"

So I think I won't write a letter after all. I think I will just take another stroll down memory lane.