Friday, December 6, 2024
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Most children grow up singing, “To Grandmother’s house we go,” but for me, Grandma was never just a destination—she was home. She was the constant in my life. I’ve been blessed beyond measure to have been so close to her. She wasn’t just my grandmother—she was one of my best friends, a confidant, and part of my soul.
I don’t know what the next chapter of my life looks like without her. There are so many things we talked about doing together, so many moments I still hoped to share. Yet even now, I hold tight to the memories we created—memories that will last a lifetime.
At one point when I was little, our home held four generations under one roof. It was a childhood few get to experience. I remember helping her clean the kitchen floor, skating across the yellow linoleum with sponges tied to my feet, feeling much more helpful than I probably was. She gave me rag curls in my hair, leaving me excited and slightly embarrassed. After dinner, we’d watch TV with Grandpa, finishing the evening with a bowl of Edy’s ice cream. They both sat through my living room performances. She never piled on praise, but when she called me a “big gork,” I knew she was amused in her own way.
In the kitchen, she let me help with the LaMachine when we made shrimp salad, trusting me with a task that made me feel grown up. We often went shopping together, wandering through Boscov’s—sometimes looking for something in particular, sometimes just passing the day. Summers meant trips to the beach with Marilyn, where she and her friend baked in the sun until their tans grew darker than I thought possible. Even her evenings at home had their adventures—she watched Survivor on TV, but it was the gossip in her WebTV message board that really kept my attention. It was from her that I learned my first bit of HTML coding. She was Corky52, and I was Shewolf87.
Later on, when it was just the two of us, I got to see her as more than my grandma but for the woman inside—her strength, her vulnerabilities, her unapologetic delight in McDonald’s. The joy of bringing home Max and how he quickly became my little brother and a tattle-tale. Those quieter years forged a bond between us that was uniquely ours.
There are many little quirks about her that make me smile, like how she preserved the new-car smell in her ’92 Dodge Spirit well into the 2000s. She always picked out paper towels with the prettiest printed patterns and had a lifetime supply of tissues.
She stood by me through my biggest milestones, too. Trying on wedding dresses at David’s Bridal with her and my mom. Giving me the honor of wearing the same crown she wore marrying my grandpa 60 years prior. On my wedding morning, she danced and sang “It’s a Happy Day” with Mom before we all walked down the aisle together—an endearingly awkward little group. She held our rings safely for the ceremony. Later, she made her way onto the dance floor with Justin. She told Justin she loved him the day she met him 11 years ago. I’m so glad they got to have the relationship they did. After I got married, I still spent hours on the phone with her, talking about everything and nothing all at once.
Last year, when we bought our first house, Justin and I hosted a wonderful Christmas Eve party, convinced it would become a new tradition—but it ended up being the only one we shared with her. Still, I’m grateful we had it.
So much of who I am comes directly from her. My quirks, mannerisms, love of cheesecake—I catch glimpses of her every time I look in the mirror. In all these ways, she remains a part of me.
She wasn’t just my grandma; she was so much more. Though life will never feel quite the same without her, I will honor her memory by cherishing the life we shared and holding onto the strength and love she gave me.
“I loved you then, I love you still, I always have and always will.”
