Memories of a lady

My grandmother passed away this evening.  While I’m thankful that she lived a good, long life and went before the Alzheimer’s got really horrible, and while I know that I’ve been slowly losing her for years, I mostly just miss her right now.   

She was the grandparent I was closest too. The one I saw multiple times per month growing up and every spring break in college. She was steady and strong-willed, in a petite little package. Feisty, in the best sense of the word. I went to college in part because of her absolute determination that her children and grandchildren should have the opportunity that she and her husband did not. Those memories of me playing a superhero were in her home on Mercer Island. I can see her reading on her chaise lounge or puttering around taking care of her plants. Her parents divorced when she was a child – a rarity in those days – so she understood me in ways that other grandparents could not. Over the years, I made her spend hours telling me stories about her life and showing me her old photo album. We would get to the two pages covered in wallet-sized photos of young men, and she would sweep her hand over the pages and say “and these were my boyfriends”. Flip. (GRANDMA!) 

I loved that she could laugh at herself – like when grandpa would tease her saying that she was getting so jumpy as she got older that he couldn’t walk up the stairs without things flying by his head. I loved how she took care of my cat for me, just like her grandmother took care of her cat once. Every time I talked to her, she’d tell me the cat bit her that day, but I think she was relieved that I didn’t ask for the cat back when I graduated from college. I loved how she got on the plane to come visit me in DC grousing about the trip and how old she was, but by the time she was part way up the Capital South metro escalator, she was WALKING up the escalator with her head turning left and right like it was on a pendulum. 

I will miss her.