Excuse me while I publicly mourn...

Me & My Grandma circa mid 90s

It’s only been a week since we laid my grandma to rest… and it still seems unreal. I keep imagining that she’s still at the nursing home – just unable to call me up like she would do on the regular.

But the funeral was very real – the crowd who came out to celebrate her was very real. You know how you go to a funeral and there are all these nice, flowery epithets to describe that person and deep down inside you’re saying to yourself “yeah right.”

This was not the case for my grandma. Every kind word and thoughtful memory shared of her was true. She was the classic grandmother figure. Sweet, thoughtful and caring.

 And I honestly miss her. When I saw the two missed calls from my Mama in the middle of the day – I knew what it was but I wanted to believe it was something else. I still wish it was for something else. Maybe Ma was calling because she had forgot her lunch for the day and really needed me to bring her something – or maybe she couldn’t remember if she had locked her door and wanted me to check. I wish her calls had been simple things like that.

But my heart broke when she told me Grandma was gone. And even in the midst of her own heartbreak, my Mama’s first words to me were “Are you okay?” I had to lie and get off the phone. I didn’t want her to hear me crying when I should have been asking her if she was okay.

But she wasn’t. In my short time on this earth, I’ve seen my Mama cry all of two times in my life – when I went off to college and at the funeral. In the days leading up to the funeral, I didn’t see her cry. Her voice would quiver from time to time, but she didn’t shed a tear.

When we first went into my Grandma house after she had died, my Mama still did not cry but yet when I hit the threshold I wanted to bawl but kept it in. I cried in the driveway though.

But at the funeral I somehow managed to hold my composure. A part of me saw how normal Grandma looked and felt everything was okay or at least would be. For the last nine months of her life, she was at a nursing home she clearly did not like. Grandma wanted to go home and whether that meant her Bond Hill home or a heavenly residence I’m still not sure.

What I do know is that she’s is definitely not somewhere she no longer wants to be.

 And that’s the only way I’m able to get by. Maybe I’m being dramatic but the relationship I had with my Grandma was like no other. In her healthier days, I literally saw or spoke to her nearly everyday.

A note of condolence from a friend made it real simple for me – cherish the moments I did have with my Grandma because not everyone is as blessed as I am to have had such moments.

 

My Grandma lived long and saw a lot.

 

I can still distinctly hear her voice and remember what she sounds like – her thick southern accent never faded after years of Ohio living. I remember random conversations we had. I remember calling her Election night when President Obama won, and her saying she thought she never would have seen a black president in her lifetime. I remember telling her I was pregnant -- both times and her giving me "that look."

 

I remember so many random moments and for that I am forever grateful.

I am also forever thankful to all those who came out to celebrate my grandmother's life. Thank you.