Grandma

Today I was buying a Starbucks gift card to send to my sister, who is a freshman in college. I wanted to encourage her at school and let her know we're thinking about her.

Somehow that triggered a memory of how encouraging my grandmother was to me. She was so proud of me in college. She tried to call me, but of course I was never in my room. So we devised a system where I would call her collect, and instead of accepting the charge, she would decline and then call me back. She just simply could not lie, so when the collect call would come through, she would say, "Staci? Staci isn't here. There's no one here by that name" instead of just saying no. It was so cute.

When I was a teenager and my parents were unfair to me, I would call my grandmother and cry. She always sided with me, to my comfort. She cried with me and would talk about other times she and my grandfather felt my parents were too strict or demanding of me. She was my safety and my comfort. She told me I was her favorite, and I believed her. She made an awesome roast beef with potatoes, and always served canned cranberry sauce with dinner.

I miss her terribly. She said that she wouldn't die until I was married. She wanted to know that I was taken care of. Well, I moved in with Terry and we had a quiet December 31 wedding with just the pastor I worked for and my parents. We had a large wedding planned for July. My grandma died in April. Technically, I WAS married, even though we hadn't told her. I just wish she'd made it to the wedding.

She doted on me. And sometimes I look at my children and wish that she could see them. That she could see the joy they bring to me. That she could see how I have matured into a responsible woman from the flighty, silly girl I used to be. I made some disappointing choices, and I feel so badly that I ever distressed or grieved her. I wish I could ask her questions about her childhood, about her family and about how she lived so frugally, saving every last penny. I miss her watching her favorite soap opera: Days of Our Lives. And how she would throw a little bit of Polish into a conversation, such as "chee-ho-bunch" and "t00-tYe" and "juda".

She came to my high school play and cheered me on. She loved me, and her loss has been incredibly difficult for me. It's almost 7 years since she died, and not a day goes by that I don't think of her.