A Remembrance

My grandma died yesterday. She had a heart attack a little over a week ago and had been in the hospital ever since. The prognosis was initially good, so I didn't worry too much. I figured I'd see her next weekend.

I had just been down there about a month ago. I am certainly very glad now that I spent time with her on both Saturday and Sunday that last visit. On Sunday afternoon, as I sat in the truck queuing up music for my drive home after saying goodbye, she made her way out of the house to say goodbye again. It was an unusual thing. I cheerfully said I'd be back to see her again soon and gave her another hug. She told me to give "What's-His-Name" (what she always affectionately called Steve) her love and tell him thanks for the cookies. He had made her Loveridge family recipe banana oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for me to take down on my last few visits. After having her first batch of those cookies, she had been ending phone calls leading up to my visits with "oh, and I'm out of cookies." She really liked Steve... and those cookies. I regret now that I decided to wait until after tax season to visit again.

I wrote the rest of this obscenely late last night.

I am finding sleep elusive... dozens of memories flooding through my brain demanding attention.

I remember my brother and I as small children driving a wooden toy train through that large, horseshoe-shaped house. We also loved to hide in the kitchen pantry cupboard to surprise her... the unique noise that cabinet makes as it opens and closes echoes in my mind.

I recall her teaching me as a young woman to properly prune roses and then arrange the flowers in a vase. Always add greenery. Make sure not all the stems are cut to the same length, varying height adds visual interest. I still enjoy arranging flowers whenever I have the opportunity.

I remember going up to summer camps at the LA Arboretum and staying with my grandparents for the whole week. Rocket camp, science camp. The summers were warm and we could hear people mingling at the neighbors' frequent parties through the open windows. She loved the Huntington Library and Gardens and we went many times.

I think of countless weekends in that house. Playing games on Saturday night. Getting ready for church on Sunday. I even have vague memories of bathtime in the (what felt like at the time) giant tub with bubbles and nesting duck toys. My brother and I shared a room while there, and enjoyed talking to each other late into the night many times. My brother would sometimes ask me to read him more stories, which I would do covertly after my grandparents tucked us in for the night. I think they were wise to this, however, as one or the other of them would always look in on us before they turned in themselves.

My grandma would read stories to us. My favorite times were when she'd read poetry by Shel Silverstein. She would always end with the poem about Reginald Clark who was afraid of the dark, "so please don't close this book on me," and my brother and I would giggle when Grandma slowly closed the book.

My grandparents would always have coffee in the morning and again late in the evening. At night, my grandpa would always bring two steaming cups over from the kitchen to the den on trays with little napkins. Though I cannot stand the taste, I love the smell of coffee by association.

We spent every Christmas, Thanksgiving and Easter (with only a handful of exceptions) at my grandparents' house. I remember easter egg hunts in the living room. My dad liked to perch eggs in the chandeliers. As kids, my brother and I would open our stockings on Christmas morning sitting on my grandparents' bed. We always had the same Christmas breakfast: sausage and coffee cake shaped like a Christmas tree from a local bakery . My grandparents always had the most beautifully decorated Christmas tree... it was a truly magical holiday in that house.

My grandma had an extensive collection of broaches she liked to have pinned to her jackets for church. I especially loved the Christmas ones. I remember many times helping her get the pin fastened and straight.

Grandma and I were similar in a lot of ways. She hated mornings... liked to stay up late and stall getting out of bed in the morning as much as possible. I've always been the same way. She was stubborn, with an odd sense of humor. She and I used to crack up together watching the admittedly terrible britcom "Keeping Up Appearances" on PBS. She was a skilled writer, which if I have even a tiny hint of that myself, it's likely thanks to her. Like me, she could be difficult... not always the easiest to live with. But fortunately for her and me both, we found amazing men to love us anyway.

I was fortunate to have spent a decent amount of time with her over these past several years. I truly did enjoy that time, sitting and talking with her. I will miss that, and her, tremendously.