Grandma
My grandmother died yesterday.

Of all of my grandparents, I was closest to her, both physically and emotionally. She and my grandfather lived next door when I was growing up, so I was over at their house pretty often. I remember that she always had Archer oatmeal cookies for me to eat, and sometimes I’d stay for dinner and we’d have ice cream with sprinkles on top. (Except she called them “jimmies,” and insisted that they were named after my grandfather.)

She was a grade-school teacher before she retired, although that must have been before I was born or shortly afterwards, because I don’t remember a time when she was still going to school. She used to tell me stories about the classroom, and the things she did with her students, and the travels she took on her summer breaks. One time when I was little she gave me one of her old cameras, and it still had film in it from a trip she took to South America – all kinds of pyramids, jungles, and rivers.

She loved to travel when she was younger, although she didn’t do a lot of it that I remember. She did have a little gift shop on her property that she operated for a number of years, and when I was little I used to love going through it and seeing all the treasures she had there. She used to go to Switzerland once in a while on buying trips, although I think that was more because she wanted to go to Switzerland than because she needed to buy things. (Her parents were from there, but I don’t know if they ever took her back.)

She was always trying to instill me with good manners, which was quite the challenge.  She was the one who told me that I should always thank someone for cooking for me, even if it’s my mom and she cook for me every night; she always encouraged me to write thank-you notes and take hostess gifts when I went visiting.

She was the one who encouraged me to go to college when my parents didn’t want me to go, and she and grandfather did their best to help me financially. And I’ll always remember when I was in the army, doing my basic training, she and grandfather drove all the way down to South Carolina to attend my graduation ceremony instead of staying at home to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary.

Of all of my relatives, she was the one I was most like. (Even physically – we’re the only two people in our immediate family who have blonde hair.) We both like the adventure of travel, but tend to be homebodies; we both like cats better than dogs and teddy bears better than dolls; we’re both independent, and hate not being able to do things for ourselves. For her, that came into play later in life, after she was diagnosed with Alzheimers. She knew what was happening, in her lucid moments, and she hated it. When she got to the point where she couldn’t walk without falling down, she kept trying to get out of her wheelchair. When she finally had to go to a nursing home, she would tell me that she was only there temporarily, that she would go to a better place soon.

I haven’t even told you half of it, but maybe enough to understand that when she died, it was like a little light went out in the world.

I love you, grandma.