My Grandmother

There is a woman in my life who I could not imagine what life would be like without her.

Growing up she was always there. It seemed when something as trivial as a tooth falling out occurred she was right next to me. She was even present when my signature chipped tooth incident occurred and calmed me to sleep to help the pain go away.

I spent every summer at her house. I was in her watchful and loving care the day the Northridge Earthquake happened. Even as my twin brother Nick and I were jolted from our bed, terrified at the swinging chandelier above our heads crashed into the ceiling from side to side, she, ignoring how dangerous it was for her, rushed into the back bedroom where my grandfather now sleeps to make sure we were okay.

At points in my life she lived a hundred miles away and then at others just around the corner. Her phone number was the first number I ever memorized and to this day keep it treasured inside, locked away for safe keeping. I left a lawn un-mowed after collecting the money to do the work because I was so happy to hear I was going to visit her. I remember when we lived up the street from her the best part of the school day was getting stop in and say hello to this amazing person.

My parents raised five kids but I don't think they ever bought us a pair of shoes because every time my grandmother came to visit we went and had them purchased. It was never too much to ask for a bouncing ball out of a grocery store or a cap gun for my brother and I to play Sheriff with. I have this vague memory of a toe being ran over by a grocery cart full of food. I can't remember if it was Nick, my twin, or me (we seem to share memories) because all I remember is one of us trailing behind my grandma saying, "Ow...ow....ow....ow" with each step and her finally turning around going: "What is...Oh my god what happened?!" Beautiful.

The hours I spent watching the Mary Martin version of Peter Pan, Mary Poppins and the Wizard of Oz. When those tapes wouldn't do she would take us out to the movies, and complain about how expensive 3.50 cents was. Simply magical.

I remember one year my Grandmother dressed up as the Wicked Witch for Halloween, and without telling us, she came to visit. When my brother and I got out of school she hid behind a corner and waited for us. That wonderful woman chased me and my brother all the way home. I remember specifically that Halloween feeling like it was taking forever to go Trick or Treating.

There were even times I, even today, feel like I said such horrible things to her. I remember one time she was visiting us, again, a hundred miles from her own home, and I told her I wished she never came to visit. She didn't yell at me, or anything of the sort, she just got in her car and drove home. Children say brash things but some reason I dreamed that memory last night. I suppose that is the purpose that I am writing this post.

We have had maybe enough arguments between each other to count on one hand. And even in those when I went back to ask her to forgive me for being so rude it was as if nothing had ever happened.

My brother's and I came from such a ... I'll use the word rocky ... childhood. My Grandmother was this beacon of light that I would not realize how brightly she shined until I would be well into my mid 20s adulthood. I have had 29 absolutely blessed years with her in my life and I hope it continues for so many more.

She is single-handedly the glue which, even today, keeps such shifting sand together.

There are memories, and I remember every single one of them, that I can not write down for there is not enough time in the conclaves of the night, but there are countless videos that can be watched from an idle sitting down of the camera to sneakily record to a sloppy Joe commercial competition on a boat. My grandmother has recorded generations of us. Generations... I sit in a room surrounded by clocks and they tick away. Moving forward through time and each small noise of advancement breaks my heart because I know that all things move towards a conclusion and a finish line. My grandmother has recently often spoke about how she is nearing the end of her life. Then she smiles about it and pats you on the cheek when you ask her not to talk about it, and just chuckles, "Well it's true." There are no immediate signs that we are worried about, just the passing of time, and I pray with every ounce of my heart that it stays that way.

I hope, like I said before, for many many more years with my grandmother in my life. I am posting this right now and am going to email her the link to this page because I want her to know that she is the most important woman in my life, and while I could never love her as much as I know she loves me, I would die trying if it was possible.

I love you Grandma.