My Grandmother died a week ago. She was 95 and had developed lung cancer in the last year. Erika, Ella and I saw her some 12 hours before she passed away. The thought of her being relieved of that kind of suffering made the loss a little easier to swallow, but still I'd rather have her here, healthy and forever. As we all know, that can't be done.
There was a memorial service at a South Side cemetery on Saturday. Many of her friends are gone, too, and many of our relatives — already a small group — were out of town and couldn't make it. Still, I was happy to see who I saw. We all agreed that Grandma was a great lady.
Since I moved back to Chicagoland in 2002, I had helped Grandma with her finances, bringing cash once a month for her home health care worker to buy groceries, etc. — but more so to spend time with Grandma. I also called her once a week. I really enjoyed speaking with her, and we shared experiences as Chicago residents, homeowners and baseball fans that I didn't with the rest of my family.
She was my last remaining grandparent and the living link to a part of my life that now only exists in my memory. At least I can keep her there. Sundays will never be the same. Goodbye, Grandma. I miss you.
1 comment:
Mark,
Your grandmother was a terrific person. She was a trooper when we were young, taking your dad and me and some of his friends to ballgames. She took us to my first night game at Comiskey Park (four of us on the bus, coming home late at night - the Sox played Cleveland and I got a ball hit into the left field stands during batting practice). And, she took me on my first ride on the El, when we went from your dad's house in Brainard to Wrigley Field.
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