Losing a Grandma, Losing a Friend

Yesterday, I sat in a room listening to Elvis croon as I watched my grandmother take some of her final breaths. While she could no longer react to the music she loved so well, I like to imagine she heard his soulful voice as she drifted out of this world. 

I was blessed enough to grow up with six grandparents. Grandma Donna is the last to leave me and in many ways the hardest to let go. 

When I was growing up, Grandma Donna was an enigma. Unlike more maternal grandmothers, she never baked me cookies, took me on a trip, or even showed me much affection. Her home was filled with Jeff Gordon memorabilia and craft supplies and Native American art. I was fascinated by her because she was so different than anyone else I knew. She still is.

Grandma had strong opinions. She told you exactly what she liked...and what she didn't like. And while this caused annoyance in the family at times, I often admired her directness. Recently, my sister said of Grandma, "She doesn't compliment you often, so when she does, you know she means it." I think there is a lot of truth to that. I took her feedback to heart and was often trying to make her laugh. She did love to laugh.

Also, when I think back to childhood, I often group Grandma Donna together in my mind with her mother, my Grandma Marj, because for many years I never saw one without the other. And while they seemed so utterly different in personality and interests, and they bickered constantly, it was so obvious they cared deeply about one another. In her final days, my mom and aunt witnessed Grandma Donna having conversations with her mother once again and I hope she now feels that strong bond again with her mother, who I know she has missed for so many years.

As I moved into adulthood, Grandma continued to be a family member I loved, but didn't really feel extremely close to. She sent me checks each month that I was in college and then called to reprimand me often when I didn't cash them in a timely manner and threw off her checkbook balance. I sent occassional emails and she'd send some back and that was the extent of our relationship. Then something happened. I can't pinpoint when or how it started, but for whatever reason I started calling Grandma just to talk. And then I called her more and more often. She grew from a person I was content seeing once a year to someone I was eager to call anytime I had something to share. Sometimes we talked for hours and I never felt a lull in the conversation. 

She has truly been my friend over the past several years and I feel so lucky to have had a friend in her. But losing a friend is hard. I'll never again be able to call her on a car trip and have her say, "Where in the world are you off to today?" I'll never hear her whine about her stupid phone that she'll "never get the hang of" (she was right on that account). I have a draft in my inbox of the latest "Sports Report" a weekly email I sent about sporting events to watch each week. It will never get sent. 

While I already miss Grandma Donna terribly, she will not be an easy person to forget. She loved Elvis and coloring and the Green Bay Packers. She gave the most ridiculous Christmas gifts. She loved the thrill of gambling or winning a game of bowling. She was very particular about things going exactly in the place she had assigned to them. 

And although my family likes to tease about her OCD habits and routines, she wasn't always as set in her ways as we'd like to believe. Until the very end, Grandma loved discovering new things. For a while, she was obsessed with online bird-watching. She toggled between several live nest feeds and always had stories about the current eagles laying eggs or facts she learned about the hummingbirds she was watching. A few years ago, she tried to learn Spanish. At over 80 years old. She got really into Ancient Aliens for a time. This past year, she decided she wanted to become a true NBA fan. She would ask me questions about all the players and kept extensive notes. I hope I always have that same curiosity until the end of my life, delighted to learn and explore new hobbies and interests.

While I have lost a friend and a grandmother, I am so grateful for everything I gained because of Grandma. She brought more color into my world. My life is better because of it.

A Toast to the Bride and Groom

 This weekend, my baby sister got married and I am so happy for her. Friday, April 12th marked the official signing on to the team. Just like Mahomes and Kelce on the team that brought them together, these two make great teammates. I look forward to all the games I will witness in the days and years ahead. 

I know personally that Brigitte is the very best teammate because she was my first one. My very first vivid memory was holding Brigitte as a baby. She was wearing some frilly pink outfit that she would definitely hate now and I was so proud to be her big sister. Some things never change. I never wanted to let go. As years went on, I kept her close, dragging her to play princesses and rock band and Power Rangers. Every game was better with her by my side. Unfortunately, I lost some signing-day battles for her attention as she often chose her big bro Josh's side in our hallway wars of Pokemon or Beanie Babies. 

Brigitte is such a good teammate, not just because of her willingness to take on any adventure, but also her ability to listen and sympathize. Although she might not always agree with your decisions or opinion, no one in the world has ever understood me better than Brigitte. She listens and remembers and I know she will do the same for Diego throughout their marriage. This also makes her pick out the best gifts. 

As a protective older sister, I have a very hard time thinking anyone is good enough for my intelligent, driven, funny siblings, so when Diego suddenly appeared in our apartment during the shut-down of 2020, I was probably not instantly the most welcoming host. I remember the first time I really understood that Brigitte had met her match. I was taking a nap in my room one afternoon when I was woken up by a loud noise. I opened the door to my room, irritated and ready to snap at them, but then I heard that the noise was laughter. Those two were laughing so hard that they looked like they couldn't breathe. They were leaning into each other on the couch with such trust. I never remember seeing two people so absolutely joyful in each others' company.

Over the years, I watched Diego jump in to every situation. I watched them play intensely competitive matches of sand volleyball and take Ollie for casual evening walks. I watched them work together and go on adventures. And obviously his cooking for me occasionally did not hurt my opinion of him. This weekend I didn't "welcome Diego to the family" as is often said at weddings. To me, he has been a member of our family for years now. But I hope we continue to enjoy each others' company...and maybe I'll practice speaking in Spanish with him occasionally to frustrate Brigitte. 

I hope these two newlyweds continue to embark on adventures and constantly compete to keep each other on their toes for the rest of their lives together. I'm thankful I got to be part of this beautiful weekend full of love. 

...And Remember, Grandma Loves You

My Grandma Velma passed away yesterday at the ripe age of 99. I hadn't seen her in quite some time, but the last time I visited we sat in her nursing home room for several hours. We talked about birds and the show on television and photographs on the wall. But mostly we didn't talk at all. She was tired and I knew she was forcing herself to stay awake for me. I suggested I could leave several times, but she pleaded for me to stay. I stayed as long as I could, but finally said goodbye. I leaned over her chair to hug her and she grabbed my hand (with quite a grip for her age), looked me in the eyes, and said, "Come back and see me....and remember, Grandma loves you." 

I knew, even then, I probably wouldn't be back to see her, but I did always know that she loved me. On the long drive back to Omaha that night, I remember thinking the visit felt so strange to me. At first, I couldn't understand the feeling, but it finally struck me that it was strange because it was so still. 

My grandma was 68 when I was born so she could have been considered an older grandmother my whole life, but I never felt that way because she was constantly in motion. I never remember a visit where she just sat. She was always running to get something from the kitchen or moving to clean something up. She always always wanted to go somewhere. It made me a little sad that the woman who was always moving couldn't move much at all anymore. I started imaging a day when maybe she could do all the things that gave her life again. I hope that time has come now.

I hope she has her car back. And she can drive to the grocery store or the drive-in or a friend's house just to chat.

I hope her hair is perpetually dyed and curled to perfection. Not a trace of gray. 

I hope she has a swimming pool and water aerobics are open at 5pm each day.

I hope there are always cookies in her freezer, packed in Ziploc bags to send away with anyone who's leaving her home.

I hope she's surrounded by photos of her family in which we all stand just right with no "goofy looks" on our faces. 

I hope she has an endless supply of Word Jumbles that she is able to solve at her table each day.

I hope she can call for Jack anytime and he will be there for her.

Most of all, I hope she remembers that I love her too.