A week has passed. How? I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been busy preparing myself and my kids for my grandma’s passing, making poster boards with pictures from her childhood, and trying not to think for a while. I spent a lot of that time feeling numb.
I was set to move into my new house on February 1. I had just heard from my brother that he was loading up his truck at the old apartment when my cousin Scott got a call to go to the hospital. They thought my grandma could go at any point and might not be able to talk much. I dropped everything and drove to the hospital. I was prepared to say goodbye.
I got off the elevator and was greeted by most of my family in the lobby. I went back to her room and saw her holding my grandpa’s hand. I teared up as she mentioned how great their life has been for the last 60 years. Can you imagine 60 years with someone? It’s my goal for sure with Billy, but wow. They truly love each other. I sat in the room with my cousins (Scott and Justin), and my grandparents. We tried to lighten the mood and make them laugh a little. We talked, ate as a family, and all tried to be there for one another.
Before leaving I gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. I said, “I love you and hope to see you tomorrow.” I didn’t expect her response. “I love you too, pretty girl.” A nickname I haven’t heard in probably 20 years. I walked out and Billy must have known because he grabbed me before I could collapse into the hallway in tears.
We visited a few other times, but that night was the last time I could talk to her. She went home and my family spoiled her with anything she wanted. She was comfortable and died a week ago, surrounded by her loving husband of 60 years, and her seven surviving children.
I came to terms with this in October when her problems really started, but you’re never prepared for the moment it happens. I had just put Addison in the bath when I was notified. I had to sit there, trying not to break down completely. I told Billy, Tara, and a few friends. Then I put my kids to bed and let everything come out.
I’ve always been close my grandparents. I was the first grandkid. I named them. I spent my weeknights there since my mom worked nights. My grandpa taught me how to drive. My grandma spoiled me rotten. They would take me and Nicole to any ice skating or gymnastics show that ever came to Indy. I would watch figure skating in the living room and pretend I was Nancy Kerrigan as I did ridiculous jumps and dance routines in front of the TV.
Mamaw was a lousy cook, so it was there that I learned register vents were vessels for unwanted vegetables and grisly meat. I might’ve survived on boxed mashed potatoes, bread, squeeze-it’s and 8:30 cereal time. Or the occasional pizza delivery.
She loved having the grandkids around. Nicole and Aaron were there on Thursday nights and my other cousins were sporadic. She stocked the house with all the best cereal (Cookie Crisp was my jam), and our beloved squeeze-it’s. “ONLY ONE!” She would yell from the couch as she would watch us chug one and try to go for another. I think she purposely picked that spot so she could watch us sneak snacks and drinks. We all loved cereal time. She had these tiny bowls that looked like ice cream bowls and spoons to match. She also always made sure we had the cereal with prizes like color changing spoons. We would ultimately fight over who got what, but she didn’t seem to care.
Mamaw is mostly to blame for my weird obsessions. The Royal family for one. I had fun reading her books and discussing Princess Diana and my big crush on Prince William. Wizard of Oz and Wicked are also her. We would share the Wicked books and she would let me watch Wizard of Oz as much as I wanted. She would always tag me in anything related to it once she discovered how to use Facebook.
Speaking of the internet, she made my first AOL account and was the only person that emailed me for months. She got so excited about the internet and she was excited to show me new websites. First up – Backstreet Boys! However, she mistyped and accidentally took me to a gay porn website. Through much haste and humiliation, she figured out how to close the website and the pop-up and told me to never say a word to anyone. (Sorry, Mamaw.) She loved her computer and sending e-cards to everyone.
Facebook was a game changer and she spent most of her time tagging everyone she knew in something (often) silly. I’ll miss the ones about motherhood and the pumpkin recipes I never made. She would share pictures of my kids with so much pride in her heart.
One thing about Mamaw, she LOVED her great grandkids. She delayed her surgery when she had breast cancer because she wanted to hold Hayden when he was a newborn. She didn’t want to miss those moments. She carried pictures of both kids and loved showing them off at fish fries, the LF festival, and anywhere else she could.
I will miss her forever. Her tickles that often hurt, all the nicknames she gave us. Her loud sighs during mass when people had to get over her lap for communion. Funny thing about her, she’s not Catholic, but attended mass with my grandpa every Sunday for 60 years. I will be lost on Mother’s Day, and when I return home from seeing Wicked this year. I will miss her when Prince Harry gets married. (And during my own wedding.) I will miss her call on my birthday, asking if I *feel* any older. I’ll miss her at Thanksgiving and Christmas. And I’ll especially miss her constant support for my writing, my mental health, and my chronic pain.
She was one hell of a lady.