Great-Grandma Mom

I had the best great-grandma in the entire world.

She would make Tang for us. We called it "Bumble Bee Tuna" and she played along. We still can't remember why we started doing that, but it didn't matter. I don't buy any other brand of tuna because of that memory. She told us stories, she sang to us in German, she brushed our hair.

She was legally blind, yet she was the hardest working woman I had ever met. She volunteered until she was in her 90's. She was stubborn. She made the best damn homemade white bread I have ever eaten to this day.

She smelled like lilacs and I think of her every time I smell them.

I was taller than her by the time I was eight. She played a mean hand of solitaire and loved listening to her "program" As the World Turns.

I disappointed her and hurt her feelings more than I knew and yet her arms were always open for hugs and kisses. Once you saw the hurt in her eyes you couldn't help but cry out, "I am so sorry!" and then it was done.

She would let us spend the night with her. She had this old radio on her bedstand and it only got in AM stations. My sister and I would spend hours searching for a station that played music "late" at night. Big Band is still a favorite because of that Ragg Mopp and Roses and Lollipops and Wonderful World. We heard "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" for the first time on that old radio. The radio is still there.

She had a large mirrored dresser with a mirror laying down on it. She had little figurines sitting upon it. My sister and I would "steal" the figures and wrap them in kleenex and "regift" them to her. She was surprised every time.

She bought us hairdresser practice heads. The heads with real hair so you can practice cutting and styling. We spent HOURS putting those heads in rag curls, braids, barrettes, if you could do it to hair, we did it to those dolls.

Dolls. She had the BEST dolls ever. All of my mom's old dolls. She kept them in a trunk in the attic. We would pull them out and dress them. She MADE the clothes we were putting on the dolls.

She would get dolled up to meet her friends for lunch or dinner. She was always put together. She had the best jewelry to play with and she let us, without blinking an eye, what was hers was ours. She had a gold tea set. We got to have a "tea" party with it one day.

We spent hours and hours with her. We watched so many Miss America pagents up there, I am surprised there isn't a stray crown laying around. We played "office" in the attic room where there was a little desk and an old crib and the doll trunk.

We spent time with her imagining what we would be when we grew up and asked her to tell us stories of when she was little.

She was loyal, hardworking, faithful, beautiful, strong, funny, kind, generous, patient, warm, loving. She was a lady. She was a dame. She was grace personified.

She died when I was eleven. That was twenty-three years ago. I don't know why I needed to write about her this morning.

Maybe because I never had the chance to tell her how I really felt about her. I wasn't old enough to appreciate her the way I do now.

Maybe because I was thinking of my own daughter. Her legacy, her great-great granddaughter, spitfire and smart aleck, somehow I know that they would have been fast friends.

Maybe because I should appreciate where my gram, my mom, and my aunt get it from and I should share how much I love them and how much they remind me of her.

Maybe because I miss her and I wish she were here to hear all of my crazy stories and if I share them she's closer.

Maybe just because my lilacs are blooming.