To My Grandmother with Love, Laughter and a bit of Sass.....
As I get a call at 7:30 am on Saturday, I roll over look at the phone and half want to cuss my mom, wondering why is she calling me on a Saturday at the crack of down. I answer im half annoyed, and thinking she has some crazy request and has yet to realize that I have 14" of snow around my me and my house. Not for a moment did I think that she was calling to because her world had just fallen apart. So in true form, I answered the phone tired and annoyed.
My mothers voice sounds weak and frail. For those of you that know my mother, that is NOT her. I am immediately concerned. Very plainly and flatly she informs me that her mother passed away that morning and she wanted me to know. After her first sentence, all said with such strength, she began to fall apart. As the words "I'm sorry" roll out of my mouth, I know this is not enough. 
I call my brother to inform him, as I know my mother only has so much left in her. I call my sister, because I know, my mother is not going to be okay. As the waves hit, she will need us. And by damn, we will be there. I look out my window and silently cuss my grandma, she loved a good adventure, and getting out of my subdivision and was going to be just that.
My grandmother was not like the book versions of grandparents. She would not be caught in a corner knitting, or wearing what I would consider grandma clothes, I don't even think she embraced her gray hair until well past 80yrs old.
She was kind, snarky, witty and a gypsy, she loved to travel, she was always on the go with her best friend and boyfriend Charlie. Charlie was at least 10 years younger than her and by they way they interacted you would never know the age difference. She was not the grandma that extended long hugs and hot chocolate to her grand kids. She was the grandma that enjoyed all of us as we got older and we could sit and have coffee, beer or wine with her. She was not one to hand out grandma advice or bake cookies with, she was the grandma you met for brunch and mimosas.
She was the grandma that got in your car and if you told her not to smoke, she would smirk and light up right next you, all the time carrying her smokeless cup and zip lock bag as if that helped the situation. She would ash in her cup, pretending that it sucked the smoke up, all the while one of my aunts would be coughing and telling her she was not allowed to smoke in their car. Then my aunt would call her other sister and let her know that once again my grandma did not listen to her car rules.
She was not the grandma that sat in a rocking chair watching the TV or the days pass by. She was the grandma that sat on her couch, by the window, smoking, planning her next trip.
She was the grandma that told her kids she quit smoking, but you would catch her at a family get together in bathroom smoking. Because honestly, she was tired of listening to them talk about it. Yes, she knew it was bad for you, yes she knew the risk - for the luv of pete she was 80. But she liked it, and well they hated it. I think she half did it to get under their skin - which always made me laugh. And she knew I was laughing with her, we would make eye contact and she would wink. And I, in return would smirk - as my mother and aunts ran on and on about her smoking.
My memories of my grandmother are some of being at the local Elks club, listening to music as her and Charlie danced the nite away. As she fluttered around the room sharing stories with the people and embracing their trials and tribulations. She was firecracker, she had a spice for life that would come through as she either planned her next trip or spoke of the adventures she had been on.
Back in October, my uncle passed away (her son, her first experience at losing a child), and it was finally decided that me, my mother, my aunt and my grandmother would all road trip to GA for the service. This would be one of my last memories and adventures with my grandmother. I volunteered to go to help with the driving, and because honestly when would be the next time I would get the opportunity to road trip with this motley crew?
My mother was setting the stage before we left about how we would need to pull over some my grandmother could smoke (well duh), how her nor my aunt could not sit in the car for very long, how none of them could see at nite to drive (this is where I come in) and a further litany of words I stop listening to.
Because honestly, we all just needed to get there and whatever grandma said would go - she was still their mom and they would listen and grip about her as she walked around the corner to smoke.
We all knew how it would go, and I honestly could not wait to be smack dab in the middle of the chaos of these ladies that I loved.
The trip was an adventure in and of itself. One filled with laughter, joy and a few what the hells. On our way down there, a cover on the motor decided to come unscrewed, we had to find people to help us, our takers ran the gamete from a man my mom charmed at the gas stations to look under our car to the 4 men at jiffy lube that were entertained by the 4 of us and our light hearted crazy.
As we pulled into our first hotel on nite one, it was full, so no one got out, as we pulled into hotel number two it was surrounded by a swat team and police were stalking under windows (NO JOKE) - so we refused to stop, even though we drove around the place slowly looking at them stalking the entrance and windows. Normal people would have just gotten out of there, not us, we took our sweet darn time. And as we found hotel number 3 we found one of the last rooms and ventured out to eat. I mean for the love of pete we are 5 hours out and our car has a weird event and the hotel is surrounded by a swat team. All the while we just sort of shake our heads and move along. There are snacks, laughter, smiles and conversation for 5 hours. There is fawning over grandma to make sure she is comfortable, when in reality my mother and aunt are dying from the trip from sitting so long. Hence, my grandmother does travel alot with Charlie, she needed someone to drive her. She has this down pat.
My grandmother did not eat old people food like figgy pudding or jello. Hell I think, for all I know she still had all of her teeth and didn't even have dentures. She ate like a normal person and ordered the fried catfish and huspuppies with a side of cigarettes.
My grandmother would not want to be bothered by your tears of her passing, rather I feel she would want you to remember your best story of her, the one that made you giggle or belly laugh. The one that made you smirk, the one that she followed up with a wink to imply she was feeling your mischievous behavior and agreed with it.
She would want you to find her pack of cigarettes and smoke them if there were any left. As we entered her house on Saturday, and it is full of her children and grandchildren we find our selves looking at her spot on the couch and laugh because her ashtray is there, next to her breathing treatment. Not because its funny, but because we could see her smoking and then lightly taking her treatment, because "someone" said she "had" too.
My mother is broken hearted with the passing of her mother. Honestly, I cannot imagine. She has yet to grieve, it has yet to really set in, and honestly I don't know what that looks like or feels like, but I venture to say it will have its moments of devastation as she is reminded that her mom is no longer a car ride or a phone call away.
If you see my mother or her siblings, I invite you to share your best moments of my grandmother with them. I invite you to remind them how fiery she was and how much she loved life, how grateful we are that she passed in her sleep not suffering. Because honestly she would have none of that!
My grandmother would appreciate the tears, but only in small spurts, as I said before she was not like other grandmas - crying maybe a bit overrated. She may appreciate the gesture, but if you really want to honor her, do so in her manner - with good stories of her best friend and boyfriend Charlie and their adventures, of the times in her life when she was a child, a teenager, a young mom, a young wife, and a wife to grandpa Roy. Do so by honoring her life well lived. It was not your life, nor the manner in which you or I may have lived it, it was hers and she made it fun, interesting and on her terms. So celebrate her terms....not the ones we wish she had.
As your oldest granddaughter, I see you, I enjoyed you and I love you.
My grandmother was not like the book versions of grandparents. She would not be caught in a corner knitting, or wearing what I would consider grandma clothes, I don't even think she embraced her gray hair until well past 80yrs old.
She was the grandma that got in your car and if you told her not to smoke, she would smirk and light up right next you, all the time carrying her smokeless cup and zip lock bag as if that helped the situation. She would ash in her cup, pretending that it sucked the smoke up, all the while one of my aunts would be coughing and telling her she was not allowed to smoke in their car. Then my aunt would call her other sister and let her know that once again my grandma did not listen to her car rules.
She was the grandma that told her kids she quit smoking, but you would catch her at a family get together in bathroom smoking. Because honestly, she was tired of listening to them talk about it. Yes, she knew it was bad for you, yes she knew the risk - for the luv of pete she was 80. But she liked it, and well they hated it. I think she half did it to get under their skin - which always made me laugh. And she knew I was laughing with her, we would make eye contact and she would wink. And I, in return would smirk - as my mother and aunts ran on and on about her smoking.
My memories of my grandmother are some of being at the local Elks club, listening to music as her and Charlie danced the nite away. As she fluttered around the room sharing stories with the people and embracing their trials and tribulations. She was firecracker, she had a spice for life that would come through as she either planned her next trip or spoke of the adventures she had been on.
Back in October, my uncle passed away (her son, her first experience at losing a child), and it was finally decided that me, my mother, my aunt and my grandmother would all road trip to GA for the service. This would be one of my last memories and adventures with my grandmother. I volunteered to go to help with the driving, and because honestly when would be the next time I would get the opportunity to road trip with this motley crew?
My mother was setting the stage before we left about how we would need to pull over some my grandmother could smoke (well duh), how her nor my aunt could not sit in the car for very long, how none of them could see at nite to drive (this is where I come in) and a further litany of words I stop listening to.
Because honestly, we all just needed to get there and whatever grandma said would go - she was still their mom and they would listen and grip about her as she walked around the corner to smoke.
The trip was an adventure in and of itself. One filled with laughter, joy and a few what the hells. On our way down there, a cover on the motor decided to come unscrewed, we had to find people to help us, our takers ran the gamete from a man my mom charmed at the gas stations to look under our car to the 4 men at jiffy lube that were entertained by the 4 of us and our light hearted crazy.
As we pulled into our first hotel on nite one, it was full, so no one got out, as we pulled into hotel number two it was surrounded by a swat team and police were stalking under windows (NO JOKE) - so we refused to stop, even though we drove around the place slowly looking at them stalking the entrance and windows. Normal people would have just gotten out of there, not us, we took our sweet darn time. And as we found hotel number 3 we found one of the last rooms and ventured out to eat. I mean for the love of pete we are 5 hours out and our car has a weird event and the hotel is surrounded by a swat team. All the while we just sort of shake our heads and move along. There are snacks, laughter, smiles and conversation for 5 hours. There is fawning over grandma to make sure she is comfortable, when in reality my mother and aunt are dying from the trip from sitting so long. Hence, my grandmother does travel alot with Charlie, she needed someone to drive her. She has this down pat.
My grandmother did not eat old people food like figgy pudding or jello. Hell I think, for all I know she still had all of her teeth and didn't even have dentures. She ate like a normal person and ordered the fried catfish and huspuppies with a side of cigarettes.
My grandmother would not want to be bothered by your tears of her passing, rather I feel she would want you to remember your best story of her, the one that made you giggle or belly laugh. The one that made you smirk, the one that she followed up with a wink to imply she was feeling your mischievous behavior and agreed with it.
She would want you to find her pack of cigarettes and smoke them if there were any left. As we entered her house on Saturday, and it is full of her children and grandchildren we find our selves looking at her spot on the couch and laugh because her ashtray is there, next to her breathing treatment. Not because its funny, but because we could see her smoking and then lightly taking her treatment, because "someone" said she "had" too.
My mother is broken hearted with the passing of her mother. Honestly, I cannot imagine. She has yet to grieve, it has yet to really set in, and honestly I don't know what that looks like or feels like, but I venture to say it will have its moments of devastation as she is reminded that her mom is no longer a car ride or a phone call away.
If you see my mother or her siblings, I invite you to share your best moments of my grandmother with them. I invite you to remind them how fiery she was and how much she loved life, how grateful we are that she passed in her sleep not suffering. Because honestly she would have none of that!
My grandmother would appreciate the tears, but only in small spurts, as I said before she was not like other grandmas - crying maybe a bit overrated. She may appreciate the gesture, but if you really want to honor her, do so in her manner - with good stories of her best friend and boyfriend Charlie and their adventures, of the times in her life when she was a child, a teenager, a young mom, a young wife, and a wife to grandpa Roy. Do so by honoring her life well lived. It was not your life, nor the manner in which you or I may have lived it, it was hers and she made it fun, interesting and on her terms. So celebrate her terms....not the ones we wish she had.
As your oldest granddaughter, I see you, I enjoyed you and I love you.
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