Missing "Cricket"

Yesterday was my grandmother's birthday.

Grandma was a very special friend to me.

I remember Grandma's nickname, "Cricket"- that's how everyone new her.

I remember when she got on the above motorcycle. She was giggling the whole time. What a true joy!

I remember her hands, so strong yet so tender.

I remember her laugh, her smile and her saying, "I swany!".

I remember how she loved my grandfather and how she commented one day while looking through old photo albums, "When I first met your grandfather, I thought he was the biggest man I had ever seen, and mighty handsome."

I remember when she would buy a new exercise machine for my grandfather yearly- none of them were ever used!

I remember shopping with her for a dress to wear to my wedding- she sat while I decorated her in dresses she would never have picked but ended up loving- because they were for my special day.

I remember how she sounded when she answered my weekly phone calls.

I remember when she stayed in the rehab center and shared a room with a 98 year old lady named "Mike". I remember how the two of them giggled like school girls while talking about how good lookin' their doctor was. "Mike" said, "I may be 98 years old, but I am not too old to be in love!"

I remember how she hugged me.

I remember her saying, "Never take a wooden nickel".

I remember her saying, "It will come out in the wash, but it may not be clean."

I remember her sheepish giggle when she met Coach K at MY college graduation from UNC. She lit up like a Christmas tree when he touched her shoulders and told me she would never wash that shirt again.

I remember how delighted she was to receive a letter from Coach K wishing her well as Alzheimer's disease began to take its toll.

I remember how she looked to me when her memory began to go- she looked to me for reassurance and guidance.

I remember answering the same questions for her over and over, but loving every minute of my precious time with her.

I remember our last visit together before she went into the hospital for surgery and never ended up leaving. We sat on the back deck. We shared lemonade and sprite as we looked over the rolling hills that warm May day. I can still feel the breeze. I can still taste the lemonade. Something told me that day to go. I was busy, I was working a lot, I was consumed in my own life. Something told me to make that day trip. Boy am I glad I did. I still remember her smile as I pulled into the drive way. The wink in her eye as she said without words, "You shouldn't have come but I am sure glad you did." I remember holding her hand, telling her how very much I loved her and how special she was to me. I remember her crossing her legs, sipping her drink and reflecting on days gone by.

I remember the last time I saw her as death was nearing, her victory in this life soon to be won as she went on the be with her Savior. I couldn't stay, I couldn't watch. She wouldn't meet my baby boy. She wouldn't be there for me to call. I wouldn't be able to hear her voice. I couldn't cope.

I knew it would catch up with me. I miss my grandmother. I think losing LD has made me think a lot about my loved ones I have lost. I struggle with the way grief goes in our society. Move on, "they're ok", or "they should be".

I miss you Grandma. I trust that it was your time. I am so thankful to have had the time with you I did. I will look forward to seeing you again one day.