Coffee Table Declarations
Saturday, September 13, 2003
I miss my grandmother and think of her often. She always called me "#1 girl" because I was her first grandchild. She had a great sense of humor and enjoyed the little things in life. She would tell me with enthusiasm how much she loved to get letters and how much she enjoyed having plants. Just little things. She could also make the little things fun - even mundane activities. When I was little I would sometimes help her peel apples and she showed me how to hang the long curly peels from my ears to make silly earrings.
As an assignment for my college Women's Studies class I interviewed her about her life. I loved hearing her stories about "the olden days" and how different things were. For example, she and her brother had saved their money and bought their first car for $100. There was an often told story about how when she was younger she once had two different men ask her out on a date for the same night. And she made lifelong friends where ever she went. For example, one of the people she counted as a friend was the woman she had shared a hospital room with when giving birth to my uncle 50 years earlier. That's the kind of person she was.
She was so strong and never scared of anything, even at the end. The last time I saw her we knew that she was dying. I told her that I wanted to wear her wedding dress when I get married. She was happy to hear that and told me to try on the dress and have my father take pictures so I could show them to her when we came to visit the following Sunday. We never got to visit. Instead she died that Sunday and I put the pictures in her coffin with her.
My grandmother died five years ago today. Her absence still hits me hard sometimes. I can't believe she's been gone so long. I can't believe she's never coming back. With each passing year her death just feels more permenant instead of becoming easier to deal with. I can feel the growing distance between us and I'm so afraid that someday it won't be so easy to remember what she was like.
As an assignment for my college Women's Studies class I interviewed her about her life. I loved hearing her stories about "the olden days" and how different things were. For example, she and her brother had saved their money and bought their first car for $100. There was an often told story about how when she was younger she once had two different men ask her out on a date for the same night. And she made lifelong friends where ever she went. For example, one of the people she counted as a friend was the woman she had shared a hospital room with when giving birth to my uncle 50 years earlier. That's the kind of person she was.
She was so strong and never scared of anything, even at the end. The last time I saw her we knew that she was dying. I told her that I wanted to wear her wedding dress when I get married. She was happy to hear that and told me to try on the dress and have my father take pictures so I could show them to her when we came to visit the following Sunday. We never got to visit. Instead she died that Sunday and I put the pictures in her coffin with her.
My grandmother died five years ago today. Her absence still hits me hard sometimes. I can't believe she's been gone so long. I can't believe she's never coming back. With each passing year her death just feels more permenant instead of becoming easier to deal with. I can feel the growing distance between us and I'm so afraid that someday it won't be so easy to remember what she was like.
