Today is the one year anniversary of my grandma's death. I have been tossing words around in my head for weeks trying to put together a written sentiment to her, my life in the past year, and to mark the one year anniversary. I wanted to write some dynamic and meaningful, but this is I can put together.
My head is flooded with thoughts and none at all - all at the same time. For the first month after she passed away, hours and days became markers. Every Thursday was a reason to be sad, every day at 6:22pm was a chance to mourn and remember. Since witnessing her last breath at 6:22pm, when she didn't take another one at 6:23, I have had 365 6:22pm's to mourn, but I haven't. I've learned to celebrate and remember. Mourning turns to celebration after the initial slam that is the death of a loved one. After she died and left the apartment, the next month of my life seems like a blur. I cut all my hair off. I don't remember talking to anyone. I do remember yelling at the lady at MVA when she told me I needed to "tell my Granny to put the stickers in the right place on her license plates," to that bitch, I simply retorted, "she died," to which she said "my bad." whattabitch.
Sofie came to live with me and thankfully, I still have her today. She is alive, and while not terribly well, in the past week she has feasted on brisket and krispy kreme donuts. As have I, and I'm the one with a stomach-ache! I think her mother would be proud. Jewish kitties only supplement their diets with that cat-chow crap. At some point, the sadness morphed into valuing the positive times, happiness, serenity. I feel honored that I spent her last 9 months with her. We took drives out to Potomac, had lunch out at Panera and Bagel City, talked about the pets in the family, watched endless episodes of the noon news, Dr.Phil and The Golden Girls and kvethced about men. We took trips to the library and she read ferociously over those months. I did her laundry, which, ironically, and to this day remains a mystery, never seemed to contain her underwear. ... Oh, we spent eight weeks driving to Dr. Greco every day for radiation treatments, and several chemo-like injections at Dr. P's. On the way home from these treatments, we would go to Balducci's and get pastries and coffee. She pronounced it PASS-TREE. By labor day, we'd both gained 10 pounds.
She taught me to 'stroke' people now and then. By which she meant, flirt with the front desk concierge in our building cause he has more power than you realize, and her greatest note of wisdom was that it didn't cost anything to smile or be nice to, or compliment someone, regardless of whether or not you meant it. But those small gestures will take you a long way. At least it worked for her because people really thought she was special.
Late in college when I had problems with anxiety and depression and thought I was going crazy, I confided in her. She totally understood, or at least, she pretended to, whatever, it made me feel safe. She loaned me cassette tapes that she bought in the early 1980s about biofeedback, (teaching yourself to relax and ease your mind). Then said, take some drugs.
Over the year, we yelled and bickered, her apartment gave me horrific allergies (dust!...) and she FORCED me to go to an allergist. I did. He gave me allergy meds and all worked out. We walked into radiation every day and made a loud and unnecessary to-do about which gown she needed to put on ... they were all blue, varying shades of institutional blue. We made a joke every day about how we hoped to get a blue one and this one wasn't blue enough or that one wasn't right. She'd change and walk out of the dressing room with the back of her robe wide open, leaving an 82 year old Depend wearing ass open to the breeze, and I'd have to chase after her and tie it up. Hopefully, we gave the other patients there a good laugh.
Oh! Puzzles. We did jigsaw puzzles for months. I haven't done one since, but maybe this weekend I'll break out a 500 piecer just to get back into the swing of things.
While I feel complete in my life right now, I miss my Grandma terribly. She was spunky, adorable, bubbly, positively blunt, yet not too offensive.
Her passing was beautiful. She was in her home, in her den, surrounded by her own art work and photographs, with her closest family at her side. While tragic and heartbreaking, and we all wish we still had her here, celebrating today, together, as a family, eating her favorite foods, or even just eating - We are all very confident that she would be pleased. Especially if I give Sofie extra brisket and chocolate pudding, with whipped cream.
I'll light my yarheit candle tonight at 6:22, to ensure her a well lighted path to the afterlife.
We love you Grandma, we think about you every day. We loved taking care of you, every second of it. You deserved it and we were so lucky to be able to provide you with that. (thanks LAO,RBO, JO, for supporting me while I took care of her) Joanne is a little crazier, but Dad keeps her in line. Larry is in Florida eating enough mercury laden fish to turn his finger into a thermometer. Virginia is having a baby next month. I left my schmucky boyfriend you-know-who, and found an amazingly kind, considerate, gainfully employed "nice Jewish boy"... and oh my god! he lived across the street from you the whole time! And, best part is, he "gets" Dad's humor. And I think you know how important that is. I am sure this last paragraph would have made you giggle, and if I close my eyes, I can still hear it.
PS. I love the apartment!
PPS. It was Guila's idea for me to live there! Boy! Was she a kena-hura.
PPS. (promise, last one) my landlord is a real pain in my ass, she makes me pay my rent on time and then harasses me about it all month.
Most of these are self-explanatory. This last one, Grandma in 1937, age 15.
