my gramma

I was very close to my grandmother and she meant so much to me. I've been thinking alot about what the most important things were that she taught me and also about the ways in which she has influenced me. While I was in Balzac I mentally put together a short eulogy that I thought I'd say at the prayer service, but then the service turned out to be prayers-only. Instead, I spoke with Emma and Jake at the funeral about Gramma, but I wanted to write up my own short piece now.

My grandmother was a perfect grandmother to me. Whenever I was with her she gave me the benefit of one hundred percent of her attention. Even when I was a little kid, she would focus completely on what we were doing or what we were talking about. As a mother myself now, I am amazed to look back and remember this. It's so easy when you're around children to succumb to saying things like 'that's nice dear,' and to tune out what the child is really saying to you. I can't remember my grandmother ever doing that. She took me seriously, and shared her own opinions with me without ever dumbing things down. That's not to say that she was too-serious with me, though. She always went out of her way to make things enjoyable. It's just that she invested daily activities with a sense of importance. Each cup of tea would be made with full attention and care. Treats would be arranged just so on the plate. Toys and books always had a long history that made them more interesting. My Gramma took care in the way she approached her life.

My grandmother taught me many things. How to find the perfect box to fit in each drawer of my house. How to make rubber bands from old rubber gloves. How to be a good correspondant. How to appreciate a good view and fine sunset.

But I think the greatest gift my grandmother gave me was a sense of being loved, cared-for, and safe. I remember so clearly going home with Gramma and Grampa after mass in town. We'd be in Grampa's old red Valiant with the bench seats. I'd get to sit in the front between Gramma and Grampa. It'd be dark and freezing cold outside, so I'd snuggle in next to Gramma and watch the glittery lights on the horizon. Gramma and Grampa would chat until we were close to our turn off, and then they'd quietly say Hail Mary together. Between those two people, out on that prairie road, I'd feel like I was in a capsule of happiness. I felt so well-loved.

I am so thankful that although Gramma was in a great deal of pain for the last years of her life that she never forgot who she was - or who I was. I'd go and see her and if I heard her say "Thaba Jane," in her Gramma-voice, that was enough for me. I can't believe that I won't hear her say that again. I miss her so much.

[Balzac-9-November-2005]