Grandma got her Foot Ripped Off

My grandmother was one of the most wonderful people you could ever come across. She was kind, gentle, and always there with a hug. Grandma was your best friend that you could tell anything to. She felt obliged to share with me also. I will never forget her sitting with me having lemonade and telling me she was worried about not being able to please Grandpa in bed. My goodness, they were in their late seventies or early eighties, I never would have thought they were still happy in the sack. The vision that gave me was frightful and funny at the same time.
She was a baker. Her homemade cinnamon buns put Cinnabon's to shame. We all try to duplicate them and my dearly departed brother Jim came the closest. She baked wedding cakes for people without charging. I can remember her taking the whole dining room table to make her icing roses. I was totally in awe of her skill. The women never even used a recipe. I can't forget to mention her homemade noodles or chocolate cake. Oh my!!
As grandma got older, she started to forget things. It was very frustrating for her at first, more frustrating for my grandfather, who didn't understand, but the mad cow started to take over. They did okay for a while in the big old farm house where they raised their kids. When we would go to visit, like always she was the best hostess, telling about the daily happenings in her life.
Grandma had fallen and broken her hip, as we knew from grandpa. Grandma's story was a little different. She said she couldn't get up to walk because her foot had got ripped off by a piece of farm machinery. My mother and aunt were in the background laughing so hard at the story. It was a very vivid story but my mother and aunt needed to be punished for finding humor in this sad situation of grandma not knowing what had happened to her. I gave them the evil eyes to make them stop. The evil eye only made them giggle harder.
Little did I know at that time that was just nervous laughter, I hope. For the time would come all to soon where for her and my grandfathers safety we would have to put her in a nursing home. She would get up on her ripped off foot and start a meal on the stove and then just walk away. Three fires before we were all convinced it was time. The old farmhouse was never the same without the warmth and thoughtfulness of my grandma. Sunday dinners and Christmas were amiss without her baking and stories. I miss you grandma and thank you for making my life special. Until we meet again.