My blog has been silent recently. I know this. It seems like when life gets full, this is one of the first things to get pushed aside. Which is probably a good thing. I can't imagine it would be socially acceptable to stuff one of my children in a closet and deal with them later. Its the end of semester, there are class Christmas parties, there are work Christmas parties, Christmas shopping to be done, birthdays, birthday parties to be planned. Phew.
And then in the midst of all that, my Grandma passed away. At that point I wanted everything to come to a grinding halt. I needed time to process, to cry, to come to the realization that this was in fact "real." To be honest, I am still struggling to do all of those things.
I have to say though, having children at times like these forces you to keep up with reality. The world does not stop. I got the call at 2:30pm, and had to leave to pick Abbi up from school 15 minutes later. There was just no time to break down. No real time to cry. And I honestly think, in some ways, that's a good thing. Not in the sense that you don't have to deal with it, but in that you can't just curl up and forget about life.
So in recent days, I have been dreading this blog post honestly. Unsure of what to say, what words could honor all that my Grandma brought to my life. To be honest, there aren't enough words and there isn't enough time. There are so many wonderful memories. Both of my Grandparents really invested in my life. They set a pretty high Grandparent standard that many well-intentioned Grandparents would never be able to live up to. For that I am grateful.
Since moving to Alberta we saw my Grandma less, but every time we zipped through the lower mainland on our way to the ferry terminal, we always made a point to stop in and say hello. Sometimes it felt a bit rushed and hectic, but it was always worth it. On our last trip through this summer, we had the ferry to catch and we had been driving for 7 hours. But she really wanted us to stay for dinner. Rob and I exchanged looks and even though we had said we wouldn't stay (before we even arrived), there was just something there that we could not deny, we had to. I am so glad we did. That was the last time we saw her and she so thrilled to be able to bring her Albertan Grandkids and Great-Grandkids down to the dining room.
Now most of you don't know my Grandma, but in the picture below her face is filled with sheer joy. She was thrilled. So happy in fact, we could barely get her to look at the camera, she was so happy to see us. I will cherish this photo. Such a precious moment.
I love the picture below of Abbi and my Grandma. I love mischevious looks on their faces. They are probably the two sassiest girls in our family (other than me of course). My Grandma always spoke her mind. I grew up watching a woman who had an independent mind, always had an opinion and certainly wasn't afraid to voice it. She never beat around the bush and we all loved her for it.
One thing I have always loved about my Grandma is how well put together she was. As long as I knew her, she was a sight to behold. She was always fashionably dressed, put make-up on every morning, had her hair done weekly (and has always insisted its blonde...not gray) and was always adorned with beautiful jewels. One such necklace was a gold nugget on a long gold chain. As a child I remember sitting on her lap and twisting the nugget. Eventually of course, this would get right up to her neck and she'd jokingly cough and sputter and tell me to cut that out. Then I would let it loosen and do it all over again. So this picture below is incredibly precious to me. Seeing my daughter just as fascinated with GG's jewels.
My Grandma always loved kids, and especially her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She never got too old to play with them or talk to them or joke with them. One of her classic lines was "I hate kids that cry!" Seems harsh, but it certainly was motivation to stop my whining or my crying. So I used to test her, "Grandma, what if I fell off that mountain, could I cry then?" No! "Grandma, what if I got squashed by a truck, could I cry then?" No! Of course this was a silly game we played and in reality she was very loving, but she certainly had low tolerance for whiny kids (which funny enough, so do I). I am so grateful that my children knew her.
For as long as I can remember, my Grandparents owned dogs, dachshund's to be exact. The first was Sam (although I called him Ma'am for many years because I was so young). Then along came Maxi. Our family somehow stumbled across our own wiener dog somewhere in there, his name was Tim. So Tim and Maxi were the best of friends and the most spoiled of dachshunds. They slept in beds, they regularly got human food as a treat, went EVERYWHERE the humans went and were well-loved. I think my love of animals probably originates from these memories.
As long as I can remember, my Grandparents had a motorhome and most of my summers were spent traveling around with them. We went all over. For many years they had a lot in a RV park in Sumas, Washington. We went to Disneyland one summer. One year we went to Lethbridge. Not long after we arrived in Lethbridge, my Dad had to return to the Island for work, so he was going to drive home, but I could have stayed on for the rest of the trip with my Grandparents who were heading to Regina. But in typical Grade 9 angst, I wanted to return home to see my boyfriend. I know that no one could have spoken sense into my stubborn 14 year old self, but how I wish I would have stayed. That would have meant two weeks of just me and them. Probably seemed terribly lame to me at the time, but what I would give now to have that time.
My Grandparents were certainly creatures of habit. Every morning they drank their coffee and played a few games of cards. They always played for money and every time I visited their home I happily tallied up their money jars to see who had more money. It was almost always my Grandma. When they went to Reno she always walked out of the casino with more money that anyone else. She was lucky. I am lucky. My family says I must have gotten her luck. I was probably 9 or 10 when we were down in the US somewhere and they had a pull tab machine right on the side of the table (instead of condiments they had pull tabs...classic). I remember I pull-tabbed my way through an entire evening and my Grandparents were more than happy to keep filling the machine with all their American change.
I just finished up our family Christmas letter and got it in the mail this morning. Erasing my Grandma's name from our address book was probably the most difficult of adjustments for me. I'm not sure when this even started, but I wrote her little letters. Whenever I was in a thrift shop, I would keep my eye out for a few sheets of cute little stationary. Not much, but enough to say what was going on with our family and a quick hello. So I looked up her address sometimes monthly. She has always told me I have a knack for writing and would always make a point to tell me how much she loved my letters. For a long time I would get a little note from her in the mail a week or so later, but as she aged, her writing got harder and harder to read. Even though I could still read it, she seemed self conscious about this so I said I would keep writing but she didn't have to if she didn't want to. I honestly cannot remember when I wrote my last letter but I had been planning to send off some pictures of the kids and had just found some new stationary a few weeks ago. Costco's photo centres photo processing was delayed and I picked up the pictures maybe two days before she died (it took 11 days from the time I ordered). That was sad for me. Knowing that she would never seen the kids at their first fundraising run. Or that she never got to see our family photo this year. I know she would have loved all of these things and I would have gotten a phone call the very same day they arrived and she would tell me as such.
There is so much more I could write, but I must stop. Her death is still very emotional for me, and perhaps it should be since it was only two weeks ago today that she died. Ultimately, I am grateful that she knew just how much I loved her. I am grateful that I wrote her letters. And I am just so grateful that I made the effort to stop in and see her. It was never forced or done out of duty, but out of sheer love and devotion to a woman I so admired.
My Grandma. Always in my heart.
