Grandma

My grandmother passed away Thursday, after suffering a heart attack on Wednesday.
We weren't super close, my grandma Marian and I. It's made this loss different, and in many ways more difficult. However, she is my grandmother, and I love her very much.

I love her for being so herself-never trying to be something she wasn't around us.

I love her for being able to laugh at herself, usually right along with us.

I love her for her signature look-black hair (only recently did she let it go more grey), lipstick, and black clothing. Very classic.

I love her because of the way she was so cautious with us when she would watch us-only allowing 5" of bath water for my six year old sister.

I love her because she would say outrageous things. Like the time she asked me if I had ever seen a black person before.. oh grandma.

I love her because of her love for beautiful things-including me and my sisters.

I love her because of her laugh, and the way she would sort of gasp when something was shocking, or simply so wrong. (Usually to something my Pops said.)

I love her for giving me one of my very favorite people-my mother. Who, is the best mother I know.

I love her for following her heart and marrying Pops at just 15 years old because she loved him so much. I can't imagine being that brave, and crazy.

I love her for surprising me and showing up the night before my wedding. I'll always remember the way she said "You are such a beautiful girl" that night. I'll also always remember how happy it made me that she actually came. It was so hard for her to leave behind her husband and responsibilities-but she came, and it meant more to me than I probably ever told her.

I selfishly love her for giving me my Pops for all those years she wasn't with him. I can't imagine my childhood without him, and that, oddly enough, is thanks to her.

And I love her for loving my Pops still, after fifty years, a divorce, and so much hurt all around. Their love story is one I still have a hard time comprehending. However, it was her Pops loved at the very end, and that to me says more about my grandma than anything else I know about her.

And I love her for being my grandma-for never missing a Christmas or birthday, for caring about me and my sisters so much,  for being proud of us, and for simply loving us. So, while we might not have been that close-there was still a lot of love. I never doubted that she loved me, and for that I am grateful.