Just a day in the life...

It's just a regular monday so far (besides the raging cold that I am still fighting and unfortunately losing the battle against). Babygirl wakes up and contently talks to herself, Tim and I start rousing and I begin looking feverishly for my sudafed so I can breathe again when the phone rings.. "it might be your dad" Tim says as I try to become conscious enough to answer the phone and then I know, I know immediately why he is calling.
My grandma is gone.

Now I sit here struggling to figure out what emotions I am feeling. My grandma has not been "my grandma" for quite some time now so I've sort of lost a real connection with the person in that nursing home. Yes, it is her, it looks like her, there are familiar things around her, but I can't connect with her. Sure, I would go visit and I took babygirl there when she was only two weeks old to "meet" her great grandma, I talked to her and I did most of the things that I should do. But, what I didn't do was remember to keep the connection. I forgot all of the things that made my grandma so awesome...

I forgot to remember all of the sleepovers filled with games of ping-pong, chinese checkers and dummy rummy. I forgot that she would make sure I could sprinkle the powdered sugar on the brownies right after they came out of the oven since she knew it was my favorite thing to do. I forgot how she would cook Mark and I totinos pizza (with extra cheese on top - no wonder I love cheese so much) for a late night snack and let us watch Johnny Carson when we would spend the night. I forgot all of the trips to the farm and the smell and sounds of grandma up early cooking breakfast so that it would be hot and ready when we would crawl out of bed. I forgot how her homemade biscuits were the best, how she would take us apple picking in the fall, how fun bathtime was at her house and how the smell of baby powder can still take me back there. I forgot about playing the piano with her and how we would sing along to "Tootsie Wootsie" and "Let me call you sweetheart" as she showed me the right chords to play and when to use the pedals. I forgot how proud I was when my grandma would play bells in church. That was "my grandma" up there I would proudly proclaim. I forgot how she would call me her girl or gal depending on the day or situation. "We just made it, didn't we gal?" she would say as we went through a yellow light. And what about those special Christmas mornings when everyone would gather at Grandma and Grandpa's house to show off our new toys, eat brunch and better yet - open more presents! That was Christmas morning to me and I'm sure helped to define why I love the holidays so much.

Yes, I'm sad, my grandma is no longer here in body with us, but I would be lying if I didn't say I feel some relief. Relief that she is no longer suffering or trapped in a body that won't let her bake brownies, play cards, or relive these very memories. I feel like maybe now I can regain a connection with my grandma instead of trying to force one with the person in the nursing home. She lived a great life and finally now, in death, hopefully has that life back; back to be with her husband, to remember her two sons and daughter, remember time spent with her eight grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren.

I can only hope that at this very moment my grandma is once again with the love of her life, my grandpa, and that they are listing to and maybe even dancing to some Glen Miller, drinking a highball and playing a game of gin rummy with grandma and grandpa Beinart. I love you both and I will miss you until we meet again.


PALTSKKJ