So earlier this month, my Grandmother died. It was the first time I’ve ever used time off work for a death in the family. I was really glad I had it, because she was my last living grandparent. It kind of brought back all the others. Plus she was a really cool lady, and it sucks knowing she won’t be around any more.
My father’s mother died when I was 3. I barely remember her. My Grandfather remarried, when I was young but I don’t remember how young. 7? Maybe somewhere around there. He introduced us to her, we got to meet her a few times, and I remember when he said he was going to marry her, he asked me if that was okay. I looked at her and asked “Does that mean I can call you Gramma now?” That was all I cared about back then. I knew she was a wonderful lady then. When my grandfather died, she told me she would always be my grandma. She said you don’t ever give up grandkids. And she stuck by it. She remarried when I was in High school. I remember her asking me if it was okay. I told her if he makes you happy, that’s what matters. Grandpa would want you happy, and so do I. And he did, at the time. Later she talked to me about divorcing him. She said she used to think if you married someone, you stuck it out, for better or worse. But this was more than she could handle. I told her she deserves to be happy, and if he isn’t making her happy, then she needed to kick him to the curb. Maybe there was a reason I never called him Grandpa, no matter how much he wanted me to. He was always Jim. Now he will be Jim, who treated my Gramma like crap, Jim.
She asked me several times about divorcing him, and I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think she saw her pain in me, with my marriage. She kept telling me, it was okay to give up on a marriage if he was abusive, and that didn’t mean he had to hit her. Or me, sub textually. I kept telling her she deserved to be happy, and I think she was waiting for the light to go off in my head that, so did I. One of the last times before she finally divorced him, she told me I should be happy too. I still didn’t make the connection then.
I didn’t make it out for the funeral. I’m too broke to go down the street, let alone several states away. But I think she would understand. She taught me a lot about being strong, and being myself. Even if the lessons didn’t sink in right away. They are there. They will always be there.
And so will she.
Goodbye, Gramma Helen. I hope you know how much I love you.
