It’s funny how certain dates stick in one’s head. Literally just a moment ago, I was looking at the time stamp on an email and realized, oh, it’s August 4th. On August 4, 1990, my grandmother, my mom’s mother, died. She really was the only grandmother I knew because my dad’s mother died in 1967, well before, well 5 years, before I was born. She was 80 when she passed and her death occurred just a few short weeks before I headed off to college for my freshman year.
I’ll never forget that week or specifically that day.
I had taken my mom up to Canada so she could stay with a long time family friend. On Wednesday of that week, I was at church and I felt a sense or a calling, whatever you want to call it, that said, “Go see your grandmother.” So, I went.
That following Saturday, August 4, I went up to Canada to pick up my mom. Inger, with whom she was staying, had knitted an Afghan for my grandmother so we went straight to the nursing home when we got back to Everett. (She had broken her hip in April of this year and had been living at the nursing home since.) I just remember her looking so cute that day. It was a hot one so she had a wet washcloth on her forehead to cool her down. We visited for a while and I just remember that I really wanted her to hear me say “I love you” when we left.
I then went to my dad’s flower shop to either work or just hang out. Probably within an hour or so of being there my mom called to tell me that my grandma had died. I didn’t believe her. If you knew my mother, you might understand why. But that is the first step of grieving, right? Denial. It ended up being true, of course, and my uncle soon flew up to Washington to help.
Frankly, the next two weeks were a blur and then I drove off on August 18th to Pullman, on my own, moved into my dorm the next day and then started sorority rush. This I do remember, that I was sick as a dog. I’m quite sure that the stress of it was just a bit too much. I did join a house, Delta Delta Delta, and living there, and meeting all of those fine women was a blessing for me. It was like gaining an instant support system. I am still in close contact with a few of them today and a bit looser contact with many of them.
Anyhow, my grandmother, Elsie Louise Carlson Laaback, was a lovely woman. She was born April 10, 1910 in Everett, Washington. She graduated from Everett High School, also my alma mater, in 1929. Senator Scoop Jackson was in her graduating class. She married my grandfather, Rasmus (Robert) Laaback in the 1930s, who had emigrated from the west coast of Norway. My uncle was born in 1938 and my mother was born in 1940. She lived her entire life in Everett and I honestly don’t know what type of work she did, but essentially she was a stay at home mom. My mother, being bi-polar, added an extra challenge, and in her later years, she was still the ultimate caregiver for her. I just remember her and her siblings, my great aunts and uncles, at all of my birthday parties, and all of each others. It was a good time. Sadly, my grandmother was the first to go and now all of them are long gone. I treasure the time I had with all of them.
Now a few photos…
My grandmother with her siblings (left to right) - Albert, Dorothy, Hilda, Ellen and Elsie (my grandma) - circa 1913
Elsie in 1927
My grandparents who were married on June 9, 1934.
My mom with her mom in 1945 in Vancouver, BC. My uncle Robert is at the back left of the photograph wearing the sailor cap.
My grandma and my mom - circa 1950
My mom in her wedding dress (same one I wore), cousin Guttorm, and my grandma - 1964
Elsie and her three grandkids, Kari, Jennifer and Scott - 1978
Grandma at Rosario Resort - circa 1983
Her grave marker in Everett
Here’s to a life well lived, or at least as good as one can expect, and being thankful that someone was taking some photographs along the way. It’s all about memories. Here’s a quote I love.
“When someone we treasure becomes a memory, the memories become treasures.”
She was definitely a treasure for me.
