I love my grandma

Today is my late grandma’s birthday.  We lived with her for five and a half years after my parents divorced.  God is so very good in providing and protecting us, and my grandma’s presence in my life is testimony to that.  When my parents divorced, my mom was forced to go to work.  Before then, she was a stay-at-home mom.  In a very real way, the divorce took both of my parents out of my life.  Just when I desperately needed stability and tangible love on which I could depend, my mom moved in with Grandma.

With the storm of emotions coursing through me in those years where I was healing from my parents’ split, going through puberty, and adjusting to the new normal, my grandma was there for me.  She cooked and cleaned, scolded and raised her expectations, painted my nails and kept me in the latest fashion for handbags—she worked in the handbag department at Gottschalk’s, and it was one of the few luxuries she could afford us.

I still think of her weekly, and often daily.  I hear her when I leave the laundry for tomorrow to take better care of my things.  I see her gnarled-by-arthritis hands whenever I pull down one of her bowls.  I laugh each time I vacuum when I remember that she used to wear a robe, slippers and curlers while vacuuming the weird plastic ‘grass’ on our porch to the utter humiliation of my older sister.  Whenever I have been on my feet and they begin to scream, I remember how she always told me after a day on her feet at work that she hoped I would never feel that type of pain.  And when she got angry or silly, she would stretch her crazy-long fingers in a ‘grandma hug,’ which was really just a clawed pinch on our shoulders. 

We used to joke about how unconventional a grandma she was, telling her that our memories would never be about rockers, knitting and fresh cookies.  They aren’t!  But she made the best fried fish, watched old movies with me, and taught me to appreciate others.  She was fiercely loyal and nursed grudges.  She had a temper and smoked like a chimney.  She was prejudiced and open-minded.  She was so very human; hopelessly flawed, self-contradictory and always trying. 

My grandma shaped me.  She gives me hope that even in my failures, I can be a positive force in my kids’ lives.  I don’t need to be perfect to be good.  And Someone loves me, no matter what.