Today as I was walking to work I saw two elderly women walking across the street. They were dressed in white Capri pants, floral shirts and colourful but comfortable sandals. They were probably someone’s grandmothers. It made me think about my grandmother, and just as I did I felt a shock go through me. I couldn’t remember if I had thought about her yesterday. I am pretty sure that I think about her everyday. I used to tell people that not one day has passed since March 31st, 2008 that I do not think about her, but for some reason I couldn’t remember if I had thought about her yesterday and that made me terribly sad.
My parents split when I was young. My grandmother helped raise me. She lived about a half hour away, but she was the one that watched us on days off from school, or if we were sick on a school day, and my sister and I spent a big chunk of the summer playing in her yard and not our own. She spoiled us rotten, like we could do no wrong, and I’m sure in her eyes we could not.
She was not like traditional grandmothers. You wouldn’t see her in white Capris and floral shirts. Often you would find her in an old tee-shirt with a spot on it. Her hair was never perfectly coiffed, frequently her perm was grown out and frazzled looking. She didn’t knit or play bridge or mall walk with the other old ladies. She took us to the CNE, out to pick berries, on subway rides to the Eaton Centre and once on a road trip to Winnipeg. No, she was not like other grandmothers. She did bake, however when ever she would drop by with a pie or some other dessert there would be a sliver of it missing. She would tell us that she needed to taste it before serving it to us. I wish she had remembered to do this before she baked the lemon meringue pie sans sugar.
She loved sweets though, and loved sharing them. After we moved to Niagara, and our house was 5 minutes down the road from hers my friends and I would drop by and she would load us up with candy bars and gum. She kept them in the vegetable crisper in her fridge and you were never allowed to leave her house without at least one chocolate bar, usually two. She taught me to drive, she taught one of my friends to drive. She taught me how to make the perfect pie crust, fostered my love of lilacs, took me to my first game of Bingo and never ceased to make me feel like I was the most important thing in the world to her. Even though the pain of losing her might be lessening, and I might not think of her everyday, I will never, ever forget her.