This is my first post since my Gram passed away and it's pretty painful thinking that she'll never read my blog again. We had the van packed and ready to go for a trip up on Saturday but Gram died Friday. I was too late. If you know me well you know I hate being late. It will be a long time before I can let this go but I was late and missed seeing Gram one last time. Saturday was more convenient b/c Thursday and Friday had school for the girls, appointments, and activities. CONVENIENT- I feel like such an ass for choosing convenience. Gram was all about keeping things convenient but in this case I would take inconvenient over convenience if I could do it all again. But this really isn't about me this is about my Gram. When my dad told me she was going into a hospice I was confused. I thought "That's for people who are dying. That's not Gram". Honestly I thought she was going to be in there a long time. She was going to spend her last days resting and reflecting. I mean my Gram is 98 and has always been there. I had always pictured her having her 100th birthday. The local news would do something about it and we'd have the newspaper clipping as a memory. There would be a huge cake and we'd get many pictures of the generations of adults and children. It was going to be an awesome party and a huge celebration of Gram. In all my fantasies of this party it never occurred to me Gram would not be there. Even as my dad tactfully told me it was unlikely Gram would make it to Saturday I kept my plan to come on Saturday. Looking back it seems so obvious I should have gone earlier but Gram has always been around and always been so strong. I only had visions of my Gram of the one above- frail but strong.
My Gram was hilarious. She used to cut the mold off cheese and flick the bugs out of stale crackers. "Here you go," she'd say "There's nothing wrong with this." And who can forget the little glass bowl with the scalloped edge that held the pickled beets? I used to wait in dread for her to put one on my plate b/c as soon as something was on your plate you had to eat it. No getting out of it. She was firm and you didn't sass her. Well, there were rumors of people talking back but we all learned from those who sassed before us.
I'm picturing my Gram sitting on her old porch, legs crossed and her tumbler of something (scotch? whisky? not sure which....). She's tapping her glass and looking out at the lake. It was nice just sitting quietly with Gram. You didn't feel the need to fill the air with words. I'm going to make damn sure I live my life like Gram Knox and have no regrets.
More to come when my mind (and eyes) are a little clearer.
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