Little Bits of Pixie Dust

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thourougly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!!"

Thursday, March 09, 2006


My grandmother passed away late Saturday night, March 4 at around 11:00 pm. My uncle was holding her in his arms, and he told her that it was okay to go, everything is fine, we'll all be okay, and finally she let herself go. Yesterday we had a memorial service for her, in which my breathtakingly handsome twelve year old brother delivered a eulogy that anyone would have been honored to have read about themselves. I was so proud of him I didn't know what to do. He got his first suit (on the phone, when he told me that my mom and he were picking it out, he said, "And D, I look good.") and so eloquently stepped up in front of a church full of people, unfolded his dirty looking notebook paper, and proceeded to tell us all about Grandma better than any of us could express. There was not a dry eye in the church.
But instead of telling about her death, I would like to tell a little about the person that she was while she was living. And living she did, she never stopped. A fighter till the very end.
The first memory I have of her is with a head half full of curlers, reining over her family on the sun porch. Being an Italian family, nothing was ever said, it was yelled over everyone else who was screaming at the top of their lungs. And Grandma could yell with the best of them... if she didn't, she would never be heard! She was very clearly the queen of her kingdom, and she was never happier than when the entire family was gathered around the dinner table. She loved to cook for her family; she got very upset if anyone tried to come into the kitchen while she was cooking. She didn't mind having help with the clean up, though!
Grandma was dedicated to her family. She raised four men to adulthood, and nurtured countless grandchildren. She loved her grandchildren, especially the youngest ones. No one could do wrong at Grandma's house; if you were a child, you could pretty much get away with anything. There was a special section in the closet just for me, back when I was the only kid, that was filled with crayons and coloring books and games for me to play. I could get into that closet whenever I felt like it and play with whatever I wanted in there.
Grandma and Grandpa live on a small lake, and I used to go and catch turtles there in the summer. Grandma always provided me with a box to put my newest treasure in, and sometimes would even help me make a wonderful sign for the pet's box. Of course, then my parents would make me let the turtle go before we went home, but we did have some fun as we created it.
Grandma was a very faithful person, devoted to her church and priest. I never saw her without a cross around her neck, a cross that she gave my cousin this Christmas. She took a lot of comfort in her beliefts, and made it a point to involve her Christianity in every aspect of her life. It was how she raised her kids, and how she continued to help raise her grandkids.
Grandma was a dynamic, dedicated family woman, who loved music and loved to laugh. She was a big Neil Diamond fan (we won't hold it against you, Grandma) and played the guitar throughout her life. One of my favorite pictures of her hangs in my parent's dining room. In it, she is probably about twelve. Her hair is done in two braids, in a Heidi-esque style, and she is wearing a jumper with flowers embroided on it. She is holding her guitar in her lap, and she wears a grin that threatens to split her face in two.

This is how I want to remember my grandma.


Post a Comment

<< Home