The past few days have been hard ones. I have had too much to say and nothing to say all at the same time. Even now, I'm stumbling over words and phrases...probably subconsciously wishing I did not feel compelled to write a post on this topic at all.
I lost my grandma over the weekend.
On the one hand, I can't even type that without crying. On the other hand, I cannot help but be immensely grateful and thankful to God that He not only provided me with such a wonderful woman to be my grandmother, but He let me keep her until now. She turned 89 this past December.
I'm 37. Not many of my friends have a similar blessing. And, if they do, their grandparents probably did not enjoy the same relatively good health and sharp mind that my grandma did. I'm also extremely grateful that not only did both my girls spend a tremendous amount of time with my grandma, they really loved her and she them.
When I was a little baby, my mom went back to work. For my early years, we stayed with my Aunt Connie and Uncle Dave while Mom worked. When Aunt Connie started working outside the house, my sister and I weren't old enough to be at home alone yet, so we went to Grandma's house. I have so many memories of those days, weeks, months and years that it would be impossible to catalog them all.
My grandparents had a wall in their dining room on which the senior pictures of our family hung. I remember the pride I felt when I added my photo to that wall and how proud my grandparents were when I headed off to college. I am pretty sure they were most impressed when I was on the radio and they could hear me do the traffic report on the station's sister television channel. "College professor? Pshaw! She was on the radio and TV."
One day, my sister and I were bored...the perpetual complaint of childhood. Grandma wouldn't hear of it. She always had good ideas. Sometimes, she would take butter bowl lids and punch holes in them then have us use yarn to lace through and see what she had designed...like an embroidery hoop. Not long after that, we were using real embroidery hoops and stitching along while she turned pillow cases and table clothes into works of art. She taught my sister to crochet. She taught me to love coffee. She taught us both how to garden and bake and exactly how hot a kitchen can get when you can tomatoes. The Easter Egg hunts at Grandma's were always the best. Her zucchini bread was sheer genius. We cut her JCPenney and Sears catalogs to ribbons every year and she didn't mind. We sang songs and put on shows for the cows in the pasture across the road from her house and she swore some day they'd charge the fence...they never did.
Grandma had a way with animals. Sure, dogs and cats and fish liked her. Birds too. But she raised more than one litter of abandoned rabbits and squirrels and even raised a raccoon found abandoned as a baby. Grandma knew that Alice the Raccoon would be a target in the wild so an elaborate pen was built and Alice enjoyed the high life until one day she decided it might be fun to try and take Grandma's arm off at the elbow. Alice became acquainted with the wrong end of a heavy metal watering can and also received an eviction notice. She had demonstrated her ability to protect herself and learned a lesson in not messing with Grandma.
One summer, I remember Grandma deciding to dust off her bicycle and take a few spins around the driveway. I watched as her bike came to an uneventful stop and Grandma remaining in her seat without moving. The bike sat in place for a second or two and then slowly rolled onto its side taking Grandma with it! Horrified, I ran from the living room, through the dining room, and out the kitchen door, jumped down the porch steps just in time to see her moving the bike and getting up.
"Oh, man! Grandma, are you okay?! You fell!"
"No, honey, I'm fine. My legs aren't long enough to reach the ground when I'm sitting on the seat, so I just decided to roll on off."
Grandma lived through the Depression. I remember stories of how Grandpa taught her to sew. She made little pairs of overalls for my dad from cotton feed sacks and they were dyed different colors. It amazes me how, at such a young age, she handled being a Navy wife during WWII and raising three small kids.
This is my grandma on her wedding day in a New York City photo booth. (I shouldn't write so late at night!)
She was 16, give or take visiting my Grandpa while he had shore leave. She had to take my dad, who was an infant, with her on that trip.
My grandfather carried this photo of my grandmother in his wallet until the day he died.
I took it to CVS after Grandpa died and used the photo lab machine to copy and enlarge it as it was a wallet sized photo.
I remember thinking when Grandpa died that this photo and his keeping it was one of the single, most romantic things I thought I'd ever seen.
To have carried a photo of your bride from your wedding day for decades and decades...
What more could a girl want?
Which reminds me of the time I had to tell my Grandma that my first husband and I were divorcing...this, to a woman who had been married to one man for longer than I'd been alive and then some.
She said, "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but you know...you're getting a little old to be doing things like this, don't you think?"
I was 29. But, let's face it. By the time Grandma was 29, she'd been married a good, long time. I didn't hear any words of warning, though, when I decided to marry Hubs. She'd known him from the first go 'round and I know she approved.
This past Saturday, my prayers for my husband were answered when he received permission to drive the three hours from his training location to the hospital where my grandma was. She'd fallen ill on Friday and it was determined she had experienced a stroke and a likely heart attack. I spent lots of time with her Friday and had not made it back to the hospital Saturday yet when my husband arrived, in uniform. My family said that she knew he was there, knew who he was and, if I know Grandma, appreciated very much the sight of a good looking man in uniform.
My grandparents made a good couple and they worked on lots of projects for us kids as we grew up. 
Aside from all the fun road trips and driving around we did (in the big blue boat of a car with the bobbing headed dog in the back window), all the trips to the restaurant in town, and days of just hanging around the house, they provided lots of interesting ways to pass the time.
One summer, my sister and I complained our baby dolls had no cute clothes. Grandma sat down, took out some rubber bands and fitted them around our babies' waists and legs. She crocheted outfits complete with waistbands.
Grandpa worked with wood and made LOTS of stuff...a pin ball machine that used marbles and tinker toys. One Christmas, Grandma crocheted little babies with doll form heads and hands and Grandpa made cradles for them. Another year, Grandma crocheted Barbie clothes and Grandpa built Barbie sized closets complete with teeny tiny wire hangers to hang on the rod.
You could always count on Grandma in those days to have gum in her purse (the square kind with minty gel in the middle) and Kleenexes too.
Grandma, when I knew her, provided a perfect balance between hard and soft. I know when she was younger, there are stories of her teaching her own kids that Mamma does not play so do not show your ass in public. However, by the time she got to us, we could just tell Grandma didn't mess around and who wanted to make her mad anyhow? She was too much fun.
Before Grandma, I didn't know you could make a cake without a box.
After Grandma, I realize how important it is to appreciate all the little things and never leave without giving a hug and kiss goodbye. She did a wonderful job teaching that lesson to my girls too. No matter how shy or crusty M2 was feeling on a given day, she never once refused to give Grandma Great her hugs and kisses. M1 remembers how Grandma Great would keep a little rabbit figurine that she would hide each time M1 came over and M1 would have to find him...loads of laughs and giggles for those two. Grandma recently told me how much she enjoyed seeing the girls and how it was so fun to watch them grow. She said how very much M1 reminded her of me and how she saw a lot of herself in M2. I see that too and imagine that is why they connected as well as they did. M1 and I are similar in many ways and our love and connection with Grandma was just one of them.
This photo from M2's first Easter is a wonderful example of how these two got on. See Grandma Great's hand offering M2 her first sugary peep and that look on M2's face saying, "Oooooo, boy!"
A year later at a Memorial Day cookout, M2 had her very first s'more and could not get enough. She has a sweet tooth, no doubt. BUT, as you can see here, she wasn't quite as willing to share her goodies with Grandma Great as Grandma 
Great was with M2. M2 seems to be saying, "I love you and all and I enjoy speaking with you, however, I will be doing it from afar because I don't want you to snatch my s'more!!"
That cookout was a lot of fun and girls had many hugs and loving up on Grandma 
moments.
And, eventually, M2 couldn't resist snuggling up with Grandma Great, but I'm pretty certain there was a mutual agreement that Grandma would not try to "help" M2 finish off her s'more.
M2 still looks a little suspicious...can't tell if she doesn't
trust Grandma Great o
r the camera woman. Somebody must have told her that the photographer is a big s'mores fan too.
I try not to think too far ahead. I don't want to contemplate not talking to her on my birthday next year...I will miss two phone calls when I turn 38--one from her and one from Aunt Mary Ann and that is hard. But, they can toast me in Heaven and pray I get my act together someday soon.
My friend, AWTM, sent me a lovely video which she posted on her blog in honor of my Grandma. She said in her e-mail that she imagined my Grandma dancing with her Maker even as she typed.
I told her I could see that too, although, with a twist.
I imagine Grandma keeping enough of her orneriness to tell her Maker she'd put His name on her dance card. After all, Grandpa had been waiting a good 10 years for a chance to dance with her again and if there is no death then there is no death do us part.
