Gramma

(For the record, I have always spelled Gramma J wrong, because it felt right.)

My Gramma J has always been one of my best friends. As far back as I can remember, that woman has been there. I remember racing her to the corner in Hampton. She would drive from her house, and I would run to where she would pick me up. Funny thing is, it was Hampton IA, neither one of us went more than 3 blocks. I remember the walks, and picnics in the park near her house. I remember playing hours of cards together. The ongoing bet was a hug if she won, and cookies if I did. We kept track too. I would occasionally cash in about 6 dozen cookies at a time. She didn't care. She was going to make them either way.

I remember taking road trips together. She would have me sit in a booster seat and wear my Grandpa Don's hat. She told me it was because State Troopers wouldn't be as likely to pull over a car with a man in it. I now realize it was because I looked cuter that way, and felt more important. There were a lot of trips with Perry Como and Harry Belefante blaring on the stereo. We always laughed so much together. I don't know how many times I sang that stupid bananas song just because she liked it.

I remember her coming to stay with me in Spencer after we had moved. Mom and Dad were gone for a few days so it was just Gramma and me. She was going to come pick me up after school, but Gabe's "Big Red" 1980 Chevy Truck was behind her car. She didn't want to be late, so she left her Cadiallac in the driveway. I will never forget Gramma J coming down the road bouncing up and down in Big Red to come get me. Big Red had no suspension, was a clutch, and was a huge POS. Gramma didn't care, she could drive it. I laughed so hard. She looked so awesome with her little wig bouncing up and down in that full sized truck.

She taught me how to mow lawn, drive on the interstate, and how to play numerous card games. She taught me alot about family and love. She taught me about selflessness, and toughness all at once. I remember Grandma telling me that some day I would love a woman, and I would want to kiss her. I told her she was crazy. I now know that Gramma was right, and more than kissing happened to make you. I don't think she would be suprised.

Gramma's health has slipped. She isn't nimble enough to chase me with a yard stick. She can't make the 8 course meals we used to enjoy at her place. She is now confined to a bed, and when we do get to take our son to visit we will have to swaddle him and hope for the best. Doesn't matter to me, I am still in awe of that old bird. Now all that Gramma wants to do is live long enough to meet our kid. She doesn't remember most people that come to visit, but she usually remembers me, and always remembers that I am the one with the kid coming. She tells me how beautiful that child is going to be and how proud of me she is every time I see her. She reminds me of how wonderful my wife is, every time I see her. Gramma J might not remember everything everytime but she remembers the important stuff. She makes me promise to bring my son ASAP every time I come see her. She doesn't want to have to live to long after all.

I can't wait for that day. I can't wait to give her that one last thrill of holding her Great-Grandchild. I know she has held on for that sole purpose since we told her that Ash was pregnant. It's crazy how this woman who can't remember most things, never forgets that. I honestly believe that will be it. She will get to hold my son, and then she'll be gone. It's been her reason for months now.

Family is wierd like that. I will love that woman far after she is gone, and she will be a part of your life whether she is physically here or not. She will live on in my stories of her, and the parts of my personality I learned from her. Gramma J is a woman filled with love. When she goes I will shed tears, but they will be selfish ones. She's ready to go, I know she needs to, but it will kill me to know that I won't have that old woman to make laugh anymore. She's very special to me.

Love your elders, you never know how much time you have left, and you don't get to call a do-over . I love you Gramma.