I still can't really believe my grandmother is dead. Even the word has an empty, hollow, metallic, tone to it.
In the last few years of her life I was able to spend a good amount of time with her and I am forever grateful. She was never too busy for a chat or too busy for a visit.
Now, the kids will do something, and I think, "Oh Grandma will really get a kick out of that" but its me who gets a kick- she's dead.
The big thing that I wish I could tell her more about was Stinky going fishing. Her husband, my grandfather- one of the people Stinky is named for loved to fish. I wish I could sit with her and tell her more about it. She would have loved it. My brief- "He went fishing and actually caught fish!!!" does not do it justice. Grandma would have laughed at how excited he was and laughed when I told her how awful I was at baiting the hook for him.
One thing that stays with me is, the last time she was in the hospital and I was with her she was begging me to 'unfasten' her restraints. First, who uses unfasten-- why not just say take them off? Down to the word choice it was perfectly her. Second, the angel of a nurse let me take off her restraints as long as I was with her- of course- then I would stay for the next few hours, because tying her back to the bed was the last thing that she wanted (or I wanted).
She also asked for a handkerchief. Not a tissue. A handkerchief. Small choices in the word choice made her-- her.
After she had her handkerchief and was relaxed I read to her from Tom Sawyer- I didn't know any authors she liked but figured Tom Sawyer was a safe bet.
My grandmother was a wonderful woman. An amazing person.