Nov 17, 1932 to 20:48, Jun 5th, 2021. We always called her Grandma Jo.
I wanted to share the stories I could remember from my time with her since a big part of the mourning comes from losing her memory nearly 6 years ago. When I was a kid I really hated going to church, like most kids do. Sitting still for two hours is nearly the exact opposite of what you want to do when you’re less than 5 and I wasn’t any different. To keep me occupied and slightly behaved my grandma always brought two mints for me from home as we sat, a whole family in a row for nearly a decade and a half. Always on the left side, first pew in front of the AV booth. We continued doing this ritual even into my time in high school and college. I credit my grandma for some of my development of a dry sense of humor. When we got to the sermon portion of the service, she would always check her watch, and then when they got done she would check again and tut if it was more than 20 minutes. Once she leaned to me and whispered “well they didn’t have anything that important to say” after a particularly long 45 minute sermon.
Once I grew up a bit and started going to kindergarten my grandma, only 5 minutes or so from the school, would pick me up and babysit because my parents were both working till at least 3:30 or 4. We would play uno, build puzzles, she would bake for me, or let me play pinball on her ancient (though cutting edge at the time) computer. She loved to play solitaire with me as well though she was always much better than me. It was one day, when she picked us (my brother was there as well) up in her old Cadillac, we were at one awful intersection in our town. A road ended and forced a left or right turn along very busy traffic. The left was typically how we got home. My grandma looked both ways and went. She didn’t see the police officer she cutoff and subsequently got pulled over by. This was when I learned what police officers do which was take away my grandmas driving license.
My grandma also gave me my first job. One day when I was over she said she really needed her lawn mowed and would I do it. I agreed and when I was done she paid me 20 dollars. Likely this was an overpayment but she would never hear or accept anything to the contrary. So I mowed her lawn, probably over a hundred times. When I hit into the throws of puberty one time I had missed some grass on an edge and I replied very nastily. This still fills me with regret today and I wish I could go back and take it back.
She was a meticulous cleaner and had the misfortune of having the kind of carpet that would leave tracks depending on the direction it was last pushed. She would clean her whole house by hand every week, an old worn out sock used as a rag on one hand and a bottle of cleaner in the other. Often when we came over me and my brother would create all kinds of tracks in the carpet on purpose and she would scoff at us.
She was also a tireless host. For nearly two decades we had every Christmas and Thanksgiving dinner at her home where she would coordinate dishes, cook the main course, do any supplemental cooking, and then begin cleanup, sometimes having only eaten half her plate. I credit this as teaching me to be gracious, even as a guest, and give back to those you break bread with. Often we had to push her into her seat and make her enjoy the meal she had worked so hard to make happen.
You don’t know when a critical moment will appear in your relationship with someone. Often you aren’t paying close attention, or time sneaks by you, but I fail to remember the last time Grandma Jo said my name or recognized me. Likely it was in one of the small moments. We continued sitting together when we were both at church together even briefly as I got into college. Maybe it was the last time she gave me mints in the pews at church. I’m sad because I didn’t grow up enough to be kinder to her while she still saw me. And now she’ll never really see me.
