Applesauce

I made applesauce last week.  This isn't usually a big deal for me: I love to make a fresh batch of hot applesauce in the crockpot with cinnamon and marshmallows melted in at the end.  It is how my mom does it.  Last week however I did something differently.  We had purchased one bushel of apples (things here in Michigan weren't so hot for apples this year) and I wanted to make some applesauce just like I made as a little girl.  My parents would cook down the apples in the basement and then use this great gadget like a colander up on legs with a large cone shaped wooden dowel in the middle.  The hot cooked apples: skins, seeds and all would be placed in the cone and then we would spin the wooden dowel around and the applesauce would come through the holes with the skins and seeds left behind.  I loved helping my parents do that.  So I gave dad a call and asked him if I could borrow it.  "It" he replied belonged to my Grandma Koeman.  Grandma Koeman wasn't doing well.  She just had surgery on her back for a compressed vertebrae.  She lives with Aunt Nancy, so I contacted Aunt Nancy and sure enough, Shanda could borrow the applesauce maker.  Picking it up was wonderful because my girls and I were able to visit with Grandma for awhile.  She is in bed and almost blind.  She held each of our faces close and gazed at us.  We talked about applesauce.  It was good.  I made the applesauce that night and LOVED thinking about my young parents and my young grandparents working to make applesauce for their families.  Grandpa Koeman grew apples and Grandma spent many hours putting up apples in various forms.  Grandpa liked to have one apple pie a week in the winter, so Grandma made a froze over 30 pies every fall.  I loved imagining her as a young woman with flushed cheeks trying to put enough up sauce and pies for her eight children.  I even took pictures so that I could make a blog post about my Grandma and making applesauce.  The pictures are still on the camera.

Last night I got "the call".  We are all familiar with these phone calls.  My mom called to let me know that Grandma has been put on hospice.  It is only a matter of time before she joins Jesus and Grandpa in heaven. Though I'm happy for her in that regard, I'm not so excited about losing my last remaining grandparent.  I'm not excited that I may be in Miami and may miss the funeral.  Selfishly I'm asking God to keep Grandma alive until at least the week-end.  I know. . . selfish.  She is ready to go home.  Her applesauce maker is sitting in a bag in the garage with a thank-you note attached to it.  I'm not sure if I'll have the chance to deliver it to her or not.  She is the matriarch of a bunch that numbers over 100.   Though I don't know if I'll see her alive again on this side of heaven, I do know that one day we'll make applesauce together.