We knew it was coming. No matter what anyone says or how much you expect it the phone call still is a shock. You have a bizarre mixture of loss and joy all at the same time, a grand sense of relief and tension but at least the suffering is at an end.

Today my grandmother died. Her name was Sylvia and she was one hell of a lady. She was in a word – spunky. Small in stature but she was great in spirit. She birthed seven children and raised nine. She outlived two husbands and man could she draw. 

While I was growing up we didn’t spend as much time at her house as we did at Grandma Maurer’s and somedays I regret that choice. I would have liked to known her better. I remember her house in Minister as a young boy, we would go there and she would always give us 7-up in these wonderful glasses that had big inverse bubbles carved out of them. They had a sort of irridence to them that I remember. Its funny what memories stick with us – how the image of that glass and that drink stick with me.

Every year on my birthday – including this last year while she was ill – I received a hand written birthday card from her. She never forgot, never missed a one. I think only once or twice did I ever send her one on her birthday or send her a thank you for taking the time to write me yet every year there it was – I’ll miss those cards.

Mostly I remember her as a tough old lady who loved to smile, enjoy a good beer, and who would shoot raccoons out of a tree with her old 410 shotgun. No foolin’. When she lived on the farm, she had a ton of cats, and would feed them in the barn. Well the Raccoons would come and eat the cat food – so Grandma would shoot the buggers to keep the cats from starving. Plus I don’t think she liked raccoons all that much either.

Now I’m off to Ohio to mourn her with my family to say goodbye to another matriarch of my family and comfort my mother in her time of grief. I’m not that sad, really, not yet. It was hard seeing her in June. Seeing that frail little woman bundled up on a hospital bed not weighing more than 75 lbs, but what I’ll remember always about that visit is what happened the last time I saw her as I was leaving…

I was walking out of her room, my Aunt Annie was sitting next to her and I had said my goodbyes. Right before I walked out the door I looked back just one more time – there she was in a beautiful red sweater and she caught my eye. Then she smiled and winked at me. She actually winked! I thought to myself – spunky ole’ lady I’m gonna miss you. I grinned back and walked out of her life.

I’ll miss you grandma. See you on the other side.

J