It’s been a rough week around here, and as a result, this post is less home-officey and more ‘homey”.
My grandmother passed away last week, at the age of 82. She’d been having a bit of a rough time in the last year or so, but none of us expected it. She was fine at Easter, but sick the next day, and gone the next Saturday.
As a result, I’ve been thinking a lot about both of my grandmothers. I know that the life I lead probably seemed incredibly foreign to them - tapping away at a computer keyboard in the spare bedroom of my house, working in an office where people wore slippers and jeans and pierced their faces. I look at pictures of them in the 1930s and 40s and I can’t imagine their lives, either.
I really dug my grandmas. They were two people who were unfailing in their love and support of their families. They both had fabulous senses of humor. They were both voracious readers, something that I’m sure is imprinted somewhere in my genes. They were excellent cooks, something that I know for a fact is not.
I have lots of great memories of my grandma. She used to give me hints when I tried to do the crossword puzzles (she was a master at them!). She made me lasagna on my birthday. She always wore the paper hat out of the Christmas cracker. I learned the words to Auld Lang Syne from her (and Dick Clark). She used to give me big kisses goodbye, then promptly have to wipe her lipstick off my cheek. There was never any doubt over whether she was happy to see her grandchildren - she had a big, beautiful smile for us every time, even when she couldn’t see our faces clearly.
I realize I’m lucky to have had grandparents around until my 20s and 30s. I have all kinds of memories of visits with the four of them as I grew up. And of course, I’m lucky to still have a grandfather around, so there are memories of more visits to come.
We had a party for my grandma in February, on her birthday. She told a story (with great relish) about me turning to her one day when we were watching television. “Grandma,” I said, “will you have wrinkles one day?”
“Yes,” she said, “I probably will.”
I seemed to ponder this for a while, before I turned back to her. “Grandma,” I said, “do you think Oil of Olay will help?”
I don’t know what we’re talking about in this picture, but we could easily be having that very conversation. I don’t think I’d ever seen this photo before last week, but it immediately made me remember all the great chats I’d had with her over the years.
Here’s to my grandma, Joyce.
