Early Sunday morning, February 13, 2011, my grandmother peacefully passed away. She was tired, as I imagine most of us would be, at the age of 87. Not tired of living, so much, as she was tired of taking medications, tired of not being able to eat foods she enjoyed, tired of dealing with the slow, steady decline of her physical body, and not being able to do a darn thing about it.
I have many wonderful memories of her. She felt that family was the center of all things, and that is definitely where her heart always was.
I remember how she always took an afternoon "rest" and would lie on her bed with her feet propped up on the wall. I always thought this was bizarre, but she swore that the increased blood flow to her brain helped her feel rejuvenated.
I remember how she would arrange sleepovers with the neighbor's daughter, Kristi, who was just a bit older than I. We would eat popcorn and stay up late and watch Shock Theater or Twilight Zone on the TV she had in the guest room. We weren't too old, maybe 8 or 9, and we'd get scared out of our wits, but that just added to the fun. For Grandma, that's what it was all about.
I remember how we had a family dinner each and every week. It was always so important to her to have the family gathered at her house weekly so she could keep up with everyone's busy lives. I loved these dinners. I loved walking in and discovering what good things she had cooking. I loved being able to see my Dad and my Aunt Meredith & Uncle Ray, and Mariah when she came along each week. Sometimes, my Uncle Randy and Aunt Marva would come down from Denver where they lived. Those were fun times.
I remember what a fantastic cook she was. Cooking and homemaking were passions of hers. She was always reading a new cookbook or leafing through a cooking magazine, gathering new recipes, because, Lord knows, she didn't have enough! My grandpa made her a recipe box that holds an insane number of recipe cards, and the box is overflowing. We always teased that she had at least 101 different recipes for liver! She definitely inspired me to be a good cook. I look at my own kitchen and find that I am a lot like her in this area, with my tons of cooking magazines and cookbooks, and miscellaneous recipes gathered from here and there all stuffed into a folder which is about 3 inches thick. One time, when I was probably 13 or 14, I was helping her get dinner ready, and she wanted me to open a can of pear halves. I decided to get creative and put the pear slices on a plate, sprinkled cinnamon sugar on top and put a cherry in the pit cavity. She made such a big deal of me 'creating a new recipe'. Thinking back, I wonder how many people do that sort of thing, but she sure made me feel like I was special and unique and talented to create this groundbreaking new recipe.
I remember hearing stories of how she was a nurse before she got married. And, how she used to smoke. This was funny because later on, she used to really get on my grandpa for smoking. She wanted him to quit and would nag at him incessently each time he lit up a cigarette. He just took it in stride, and continued to puff away, saying, "Yes, Dear."
I remember how her sister, Dani (Janet) used to drive her insane, but she loved her dearly at the same time.
I remember what a fantastic conversationalist she was. There was never a lacking of conversation when she was around. And I don't mean that she just talked a lot. She truly knew the art of conversation.
I remember she always, at 5 o'clock sharp, had 'Drink Time.' She always put out hors d'oeuvres, even if it was just cheese and crackers. We'd head to the basement where the bar was and my Grandpa would serve up their drinks, and she'd have her martinis. If there were any other adults, then the kids were not allowed to sit at the bar. When I was about 16 or so, I was considered old enough to stay at the bar during drink time. I felt so grown up!
I remember summers spent playing in their back yard and in the kiddie pool. One summer I decided to roller skate on their back porch. I fell and landed on my tailbone. She made me lie on the floor in the den, with an ice pack on my bare butt. Another year, I made a little hideout behind a lilac bush in a corner of their yard. Several times I hopped the rear fence and would walk up and down the small drainage ditch. She always warned me to be careful, even though I never saw more than a trickle of water in it.
She volunteered by brailling for the Colorado School for the Deaf and Blind. She was certified by the Library of Congress. When I was about 9 or 10, she tried to teach me to braille. She was so proud of me! Eventually, I was practicing less and less, and so the lessons stopped. I imagined that she was disappointed, but she never let on.
I remember coloring Easter eggs each Easter, and, of course, Cookie Baking Day at Christmas. Oh, how I loved Cookie Baking Day. My brother and I, our cousins, and sometimes Kristi and Ricky, the kids across the street, would all gather at my grandma's house with all my aunts and uncles for the sole purpose of churning out a huge amount of Christmas cookies. We made several varieties. We always got to take lots home, and best of all, there were always lots there at grandma's house when we came over during the holidays.
Celebrating birthdays was always important to her as well. We would have a big birthday celebration at her house, and the birthday person always got to pick what she would make for dinner. We'd always have cake and ice cream, with my grandpa always having Ice Box Cake and my Dad always having Cheesecake. My Dad's birthday was on Christmas Eve, so my childhood memories of Christmas Eve are filled with memories of family, good food, and togetherness.
I remember how thrifty she was, and how she loved to go 'garage-saling' and to the thrift stores. When we bought our new house (14 years ago, now) she bought us a book on how to get the most out of everything, because, as she told me, houses are expensive and you need to stretch your money.
Sunday afternoon I sat in her house, looking at photo albums. One big one was through the years, from the 1970's to the 1990's, a few were from the cruises that she and my grandpa took, some were of the weddings of my Dad, Randy, and Meredith, a couple of ones were of their 50th wedding anniversary celebration. Two that I found had really old black and white photos. They were the really old album kind, with heavy paper pages and photo corners to hold the pictures in. One had pictures of her childhood, the other had pictures of my dad and siblings as they grew up. Photos of my great grandparents when they were younger. But, what struck me the most as I sat missing her, wishing I had had more time with her, is that she lived a life full of love and family. What a great legacy to leave us with.
