A week ago Sunday, my grandmother passed away.
And after a week of reflection — interspersed with tears and laughter — I've decided to write some of the thoughts down.
I was 4 years old when my grandfather married "Grandma Dorothy." And all of a sudden this tiny woman with three (grown) children and one teenaged grandchild became step-mother to nine and grandmother to over half a dozen kids. Looking back, I can see how overwhelming it must have been for her.
For my part, I was the youngest of five grandchildren, the rest of them boys. An only-child, I had a flare for the dramatic and tendency to talk to myself. What little I remember of the wedding (in my role as flower girl) involves my new cousin and bridesmaid Marterese (then 16) keeping me occupied with games behind the alter, and having to hold my cousin Joe's hand going back up the aisle (It was sweaty. I didn't like it.)
I was jarred a bit by mother's reaction to her passing. While my mother loved and appreciated her, Grandma Dorothy was her second step-mother. Mom was very blunt about our place as her step family, something I had never considered before. She was never a step relation to me — she was my grandmother, period.
As said during her funeral service, grandma could enter an elevator with four strangers and leave it with four new friends. Growing up, whenever we were out to dinner — whether it was their regular place or someplace new – Grandma Dorothy would "adopt" the waitresses. She was always friendly. She was always polite and courteous. And she appreciated a good life-is-funny laugh.
She was the epitome of a lady. I still remember her cringing when grandpa encouraged me to wipe my hands off on my pants instead of a napkin.
Perhaps most important to me — she tried. She may not have known to handle all us grandkids, but she made a damn good effort. She couldn't cook very well, so she made a point to stock a variety of Jello packs so she always had our favorites on hand. She took me berry picking, taught me to play Chinese checkers, and took care of me when I was sick.
She made an effort to learn my favorite flower, and occasionally surprised me with rose adorned presents or souvenirs. Her favorite was iris, something I intend to add to my garden in her memory. She delighted in discovering things we had in common like favorite book ("A Girl of the Limberlost") and favorite TV shows (British comedies).
Grandma Dorothy was always happy to see you. She loved visiting and being social. Even when her memory faded to the point where I'm fairly certain she no longer knew who we were, she was always so happy to see us. One of my more recent cherished memories of her was four years ago when I brought my 6'3" then fiance over to meet them. Grandma, all 4-foot-nothing of her, insisted on giving him the grand tour of their two room, one bath abode — and he dutifully followed her around. It was one of the cutest things I think I've ever seen. I'm so grateful he got to meet her when she was still mostly herself — her wonderful, welcoming and utterly ladylike self.
