Goodbye, Barb

I've been a Traff for just about exactly thirty-three and a half years right now. R.J. and I came from opposite positions in our families; he was the oldest of four while I was the youngest of six. His parents were very young when he was born, while mine were on the older side. At first, it felt odd to have a “mother” who was not quite 15 years older than I was.  From the start, I tended to put Barb somewhere between a mom and a sister in my thoughts. Soon enough – well maybe not soon enough from her way of thinking – we had our first child. You have never seen a grandchild so well equipped as our little Emily was! Barb was in her glory, sewing many blankets for us before Emily was even born. Then when she was born and she was a girl – well, the sewing just exploded. After four boys, Barb was delighted to sew dresses and use pink fabric.  She sewed for all our kids, girls and boys alike. They always had new Christmas outfits and new Easter outfits from Grandma Barb. There was virtually no limit to what she would do for those kids. When she worked at McDonald’s, she picked up not just one but four of every single Happy Meal toy for our kids. (It was an expression of love.)

Christmas outfits, made by Grandma Barb

Barb was always a part-time person in my life, meaning we connected and separated again as we went from event to event, holiday to holiday. That changed two and a half years ago when Les died. His suicide and her recovery from a major medical event left her very vulnerable. R.J. and I stepped into her life in a more intimate way at that time. We learned about all her medications. We learned how to manage her oxygen. We learned how much she struggled with depression. We learned about her daily life. It took time to learn all those things. I had the privilege of spending a lot of time with Barb. We didn’t always have the same approach to life, but I enjoyed spending time with her. I know she felt alone and dependent and didn’t like those feelings. I know she had a lot of fear about what was to come, as well. What turns would her health take? Would her memory continue to fail? Would she have enough money to take care of herself? Would she have to move again? What was coming for her sweet sister Mary Beth? And on and on. She had a good amount of physical pain as well, most notably in her recovery from a severely broken arm.  And she desperately missed Les. His death was so hard on her.

Even with all this, Barb knew how to make me laugh. She enjoyed telling cute stories of days gone by, and she had many of them. She poked fun at herself, and she also poked fun at me, in the best possible ways. I can smile now, thinking about the way she loved her family. She spoke with great pride for all her grandchildren, and she fiercely loved her boys, even when she didn’t always agree with them. She looked forward to phone calls from Brian, Mike, and Chris. She would tell me what they were up to, or ideas they shared with her, or how their families were doing. Each one of her boys were special to her. She knew that R.J. would tell her the truth no matter what. She didn’t always like what he said, but she valued that knowledge, and she counted on him. She knew that Brian would call and chat while driving somewhere. She loved hearing about his family and was concerned about his recovery from shoulder surgery. She enjoyed that she had recently helped him out with a problem he had with using his c-pap machine. She knew Michael wanted her to enjoy life. She appreciated his desire to see to it that she had some “fun money” and not just enough to pay the bills. She loved hearing about his girls as well, noting the pride he had in all their accomplishments. She knew that Chris would take the time to come visit her, and that he would bring those precious little grandchildren with him. She knew that he cared, even when they disagreed. She loved hearing him play piano and sing.

Barb and her sons in August at Laura and Andrew's wedding - happy times

Two of the most common activities Barb and I did together were eating lunch and doing grocery shopping. This was where Barb’s little idiosyncrasies became most evident. She loved fast food. I think she would have been content to have a “quarter pounder, plain, no cheese” with a vanilla shake every day. She didn’t really have a vanilla shake very often, but I know she always wanted one. “I’m trying!” she would say, meaning it was hard for her to do the things she knew she should do to have better health. When it came to grocery shopping, let’s just say she was a fan of Pringles. She would eat a can or more every day. She LOVED those Pringles, and any talk of cutting back on them, be it from a son or daughter-in-law or even doctor, was met with an immediate negative response.  The funniest story I have about that happened after she passed away. I was cleaning her apartment and washing the last loads of laundry. When I opened her washing machine, I found a stash of full cans of Pringles that she had hidden. I can only guess that she wanted to be sure she would never run out, or that she didn’t want us knowing exactly how many of them she was eating. Either way, I just laughed. Oh Barb, you cracked me up. You were sneaky, and I loved that spirited attitude that you would get what you wanted no matter what.

Barb, I am so glad for the life you lived. You were a very young mom who raised up four fine young men. You were a very young wife who stayed married for 53 years, through good times and bad. You offered up your opinion on topics far and wide, freely and loudly. You talked back to the pastor during sermons. You hugged everyone. You gave amazing shoulder rubs. You were creative and skilled at quilting and sewing and generous with all your creations. You made mistakes, but you loved big. I will miss you so much.

(Here is a link to the video slideshow we played at Barb's funeral. The music behind the video was written and performed by her grandson, Joseph Traff.)