D-Marie

I don’t know a time where my grandma’s house wasn’t my first stop on a trip home. To have a chat, catch up on the family gossip, watch the news, talk about our books. Her with an iced tea and me with whatever sweet she had on hand. Sometimes it was a quick visit, sometimes a couple hours.

In college, my arrival was always met with a homemade pound cake. For my brother, it was snickerdoodle cookies. She knew everyone’s favorites and never missed a beat. She had a list on her fridge of birthdays and anniversaries, which she dutifully kept up with, always sending a card and posting on Facebook (frequently in all caps for some reason). 

My grandma was easy to be around. Always proud of us, always funny. Her kitchen was covered in chicken decor and she had more knickknacks than I could ever count. Her love was simple. As long as you visited and responded to her morning texts, she was content. I feel very lucky that she was mine. 

Our birthdays are only a month apart, which we usually celebrated by taking a day trip to the casino and stopping for a Darrell’s sandwich. She would have gravy down to her elbows and tell me to remind her to order a small next year (I never did). At the casino, I would give up after thirty minutes of gambling and was happy to sit next to her and read while she played for hours. She told me I didn’t understand the fun of the slots—you were supposed to play “just to play” and not play to win. I didn’t agree with that philosophy. I would ask, “How am I supposed to play just to play if I have no money??” In response, she’d slip me another $20 to keep me going. 

I’m not sure if I ever fully appreciated how resilient my grandma was. She lost a lot in a short amount of time. As an adult, it’s hard for me to understand how she was able to keep going, especially after losing two of her children. But, she always showed up, even though I’m sure there were days when she didn’t want to. 

My grandma has been my only grandparent for a long time. We were close. She’s the only grandparent to see me graduate high school and college, the only one to know me as an adult. I am very grateful to have so many years and so many memories. You expect to lose your grandparents, and yet, it doesn’t make it any easier. It’s sad, especially if you’re a crybaby like me. I cried at the library today thinking about how she was waiting for the third book in a series to come out in November, and she just missed being able to read it. 

I’ll end with a classic Doris quote. In the summer, I hadn’t seen her in a while and was talking a million miles an hour. She interrupted me to say, “have you always talked this much??” She was quick, and she was funny—even if it was usually at my expense. I’ll miss her immensely. 

And yes, Grandma, I have always talked this much.