When I was a little girl, I often spent the night at my maternal grandmother's house. She kept a beautiful garden of flowers and loved to feed the birds and creatures that lived in her yard. She had many little pets, that lived inside and out whom I spent my time talking to. I loved to stay at my Grandma's house because everything was so interesting and exciting to me. Her home was full of knick knacks; statues of little mice and birds, crocheted afghans on the backs of the sofas and chairs, candy dishes in almost every room of the house.
On Grandma's bed where I slept was a small, round, bright pink pillow. It was made of velvet and was soft and worn. It had belonged to Grandma's mother. I used this pillow instead of a bed pillow. I remember laying my head upon it and talking with Grandma while I fell asleep.
At Christmas, when I was fourteen, my parents and I moved in with my grandmother. The move was supposed to be temporary, until my parents could find a new home to rent. I was to start a new school system midyear. I was frightened to think of leaving all my friends behind whom I had known for all those years. After a few months, my parents separated, my mother and I staying with my grandmother. My father moved across town to a small apartment. I missed him terribly. I often came home from high school and plopped myself down and snuggled up to that pink pillow that now was found on the davenport. Here I often fell asleep after school, waking up at dinner time.
Years passed, I was a grown woman, and was married with a child of my own. My grandmother no longer attended Holy Mass. She had been an organist for many years at St. Michael's and St. Bridget's Churches. I had recently returned to the Church and offered to take my grandmother to Mass. She had stopped driving years earlier and did not live within walking distance to the Church. Grandma declined. She no longer felt close to God. Many of her children and grandchildren had left the Church, leaving her discouraged and heartbroken. Grandma told me how she and her brother had been so devoted to the Sacred Heart of Jesus as children and young adults, that they used to pray together and wear their Sacred Heart badges on their clothing. She was sorry that she had fallen away from the devotion.
A few years later, in her mid eighties, my grandmother was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. She was hospitalized for a couple of weeks. I visited her daily, bringing the children to see their great grandmother. One day, I entered her room to find her beaming with joy. She told me that the priest had stopped by and prayed the Rosary with her. He brought her a Sacred Heart badge and asked her if she would like to keep it. You know, the plastic one with the red embroidered edges. She pinned it to her hospital pillow for the remainder of her visit. She told me that she would say her Rosary faithfully until she died.
Grandma was sent home to die after two weeks in the hospital. When she got home, she pinned the Sacred Heart Badge to her little pink pillow and kept it by her bedside. She told me it reminded her to say her prayers. She told me it made her think of her mother and her brother, who had died many years earlier. Her mother had crocheted the pillow insert that was kept inside the velvet cover.
On June 22, 2001, I stopped by to visit my grandmother. She had not sounded well on the phone. When I arrived, she had her head, covered with that soft white hair, on her pink pillow. I sat by her bedside and stroked her hair. I said prayers with her. Then, I called the priest to come see her. He came and heard her confession. He tried to give her the Eucharist but she could no longer swallow.
Later on that evening, I held my grandma's hand when she died. My mother, aunt and I cried and cried together. We said our prayers and took her Sacred Heart Badge off of her pillow. It was buried with Grandma.
When my mother was organizing my grandma's estate, she asked me if there was anything in particular that I might like to have to remember my grandmother. I chose her crucifix that hung in her bedroom and her pink pillow.
I keep it on my bed. The children love to lay their heads on it and stroke the soft velvet. When I go to sleep at night, I am reminded to say my prayers.
"Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, I Place My Trust in Thee."
