In Remberance

After a long hiatus from blogging, I return with a memorial piece for my Grandmother, Lola.

I got the call from my mother on Friday afternoon at work. She called my cell phone from her cell phone, which, when it happens I think one or both two things:

1. She NEVER uses her cell phone to make calls.
2. It must be bad news.

In both cases - I am right here. She rarely, if ever uses her cell phone, and when she does, most of the time, can be associated with bad, sad, or otherwise unpleasant news.

I got the call right after I had returned from lunch. I don't care what the circumstances are, that is never a good call to make or receive. My Grandma lived a good, long life of 96 years. Her age was always easy for me to remember because she was always 70 years older than me. I guess her death to me was more of a "waiting for that phone call" type moment. She had been in a nursing home for a number of years, and had long forgotten who I was in relation to her. On some facts, she was as sharp as a tack - like, my wedding day for example. It was one of the last events that she traveled out of the state of Wisconsin to attend. Looking back, I am so lucky and grateful that I had all of my grandparents that I knew there with me on my wedding day. I cannot say the same today. In the three years since, both my paternal Grandfather has passed away and now, my maternal Grandmother, Lola. 

I always liked the name Lola. There was just something about it. Not event that I always associated it with my Grandma, but it seemed to fit her just the same. 

I remember her small dinners for our family of four, and her when we would go to her house to visit. 

I remember her tuna noodle casserole with the Lays potato chips crumbled on top in the old, yellow Pyrex baking dish. That dish now proudly sits on top of my kitchen cabinets, a tribute to her, and wedding shower gift from her. 

I remember her making oatmeal, toast and coffee and orange juice for breakfast. I could never make oatmeal the way she could. I had tried and tried for years. I came close a couple of times, but never replicated.

I remember the china hutch, and all of the eclectic china and serving dishes kept in there. There was a story about each piece, and I loved sitting on the beige, high-backed armchair as she told me the stories as she put the pieces away.

I remember she kept the peanut butter in the refrigerator, and I always thought that was odd.

I remember her pies. Those were some pies. She was well-known for them, and I remember she was teaching me how to make them one weekend at her house. It was a science all her own. No written out recipe, no precise measurements, just her years of knowledge and know-how to guide her hand.

I remember sleeping in the second guest bedroom of hers with my sister, the pull-out bed with the bars in your back, and the creepy antlered deer weather barometer on the wall that would give us nightmares.

I remember the creepy basement with carpet on the walls part of the way up.

I remember the old toys she has in her small garage and in the basement we would play with when we came to visit. 

I remember her love of crossword puzzles and Scrabble.

We would wake up "early" on our weekends at her house and watch The Price Is Right with Bob Barker hosting.

So many small memories from so little time actually spent with her. It is crazy to look back and think about how little that time spent really was. That every moment here is not promised or guaranteed, but must be cherished for what it is and the time that you actually get. 

I know she is in a better place. No suffering, no more of her friends dying around her, no more of her children having to die before her. She is at peace, and after this weekend, I hope to bring some of that peace back with me as well. 

-LD