Remembering Grandma

It was a good thing that I decided to make the trip back to Iowa for Grandma’s funeral kid-free, as right out the shoots my flight was delayed in Asheville for three hours, causing me to miss my initial connection in Atlanta. Luckily I was proactive when first learning of my delay, and I booked myself on the last Atlanta-to-Omaha flight of the night. Otherwise I would have been spending the night in Hot-lanta for the second time in as many plane rides I’ve made in the past two years.

But none of this was that big of a deal, as I was able to belly up to the bar in the Asheville airport for a much needed beer, and had already planned on renting a car in Omaha to drive the two hours to the farm. And when I landed in Nebraska at 10.30 Wednesday evening, all it took were three seconds outside in the freezing Midwestern air to wake me up enough to start my journey home.

This was the first time I had ever rented a car by myself, and I was pretty proud of how well I navigated through the terminal, picked out my Jetta and got my GPS set. However. I’ve been spoiled with all my automatic features in the Caddy, and it wasn’t until I had driven halfway through downtown Omaha that I realized the reason I couldn’t see how fast I was going was because I hadn’t turned my lights on. Whoops! So that was why all those other cars kept changing lanes to avoid me. Just when I was starting to feel good about my independence.

So I refreshed with a giant cup of McDonald’s coffee in Missouri Valley and proceeded to drive the next hour and half on two-lane roads through about eight small Midwestern towns, recognizing their names as I considerately slowed down to 35 and dimmed my brights through each one of them. I finally made the turn onto my parents gravel road at 12.30, and was face down in my pillow by 12.40. What a day!

The next day I woke up to find both my Dad and Mom having gone to work to tie up loose ends for the remainder of the week, and Libba and my sweet, sweet baby niece were able to catch up and mentally prepare for the next few days.

Up to that point, I was more focused on getting back to Iowa than the reason I was there. And now it was time to start grieving Grandma. 

This picture was taken the last time I had seen Grandma. It was nearly a year and a half ago that I brought a three year old Taylor and a four month old Luke back to the farm for a week. We brought my baby boy up to meet his great-Grandma at the nursing home one afternoon, and even though the Alzheimer’s had stripped her recognition of me, she was more than happy to hold Luke. Because he was a baby. And Grandma loved babies.

Will and Devon arrived from Fort Collins that evening, and it was the first time my parents had all three of their kids together at the farm since Taylor was seven months old. So while circumstances weren’t ideal, it was pretty special for us all to be there. And I’m certain Grandma was watching us from heaven with a big smile on her face.

And we weren’t the only grandkids to make the trips in to help bury and celebrate Grandma, as all but four of my numerous cousins made the journey to Iowa from all corners of the country. I was able to hug and catch-up with family members that I hadn’t seen in 10+ years, and we all had fun sharing our memories of what an amazing Grandma we were all blessed to call our own.

And because Grandma truly was such a wonderful woman, it was agreed that someone should speak for the family at the funeral. And since I was kid-free and able to gather my thoughts so well, I volunteered. I was honored to be able to share my stories with the gathering of people that all loved Grandma, and I know I got most of the congregation to laugh at least once during my speech. Which was so appropriate, as Grandma was always the first to laugh at herself. Nothing was ever too serious with Grandma.

Here is the speech that I wrote, and even though I strayed from bits and elaborated on others, I just wanted to share what was written:

I'd first like to thank all of you for being here to help our family in celebrating and remembering what an amazing woman my Grandma was. She was the best Grandma a kid could have. And since hearing the news of her passing earlier this week, and in my traveling back to the farm and being surrounded with my family, my mind has been overwhelmed with all the wonderful memories I have of this remarkable woman.

While we were growing up, Grandma and Grandpa's house was always our second home. Their door was always open, and all the grandchildren knew we could always find a frozen Snicker's bar in the freezer if we wanted something sweet. But all Grandma would have to hear were the words, I'm hungry!, and POOF! there was a hot, delicious four-course meal ready for you. Your jeans were always a little tighter when you left Grandma’s house. 

She was an amazing cook. Every Sunday we would gather with our Demers family at Grandma's house and feast on meals that most families saved for holidays and special occasions. We would assemble around the two separate tables, one for cousins and one for the grownups, and stuff ourselves silly, yet always saving room for one of Grandma's famous from-scratch cream puffs with homemade chocolate sauce for dessert.

Being able to spend the night at Grandma's house as a child was like going on vacation. My sister, Libba, and I would cover our faces in Grandma's makeup and try on all her jewelry, then get clean in her jetted bath tub, munch on Grandpa's homemade caramel corn and then fall asleep, only to wake up to our choice of one of the many marshmallow-filled breakfast cereals she kept in her lazy susan. I will always think of Grandma when I see a box of Lucky Charms. 

We would help her clean out Dicky bird's cage, play pool or ping pong in her basement and sometimes she would gather her grandkids around her kitchen table and teach us how to play cards. And for as kind and sweet and loving as Grandma was, she was pretty ruthless when it came to playing cards. Grandma ALWAYS won at cards.

And when thinking about all my wonderful memories of Grandma, there of course are some pretty funny ones as well. When I was in grade school, Grandma joined me in class one morning for Grandparents Day, where we were able to work on our assignments together. That morning we happened to be working on solving some math problems, and collectively Grandma and I scored the worst in my class, which totally stressed out my teacher as she had designed the assignment in that everyone would get a perfect score. And when Mrs Stevenson regretfully told the two of us how awful we did, Grandma just laughed and waved her hands in the air, as if saying, It's just MATH. It's not that important. Let's sit down and play some cards. I bet we'd win that assignment.

Something else that was an open joke with Grandma were her driving skills. Or lack thereof. I always remember being securely buckled in as children when taking trips to Storm Lake, and then being offered the wheel once we were old enough to drive with our permits. But, as Grandma said, None of her bad driving episodes were ever really her fault. It's just that all of her cars were jinxed. Best. Excuse. Ever. 

So she was fun. And she just loved every one of us to bits. And since moving to North Carolina ten years ago, my visits with Grandma came less and less frequent. The last time I was home before this was nearly a year and a half ago, and we brought my daughter and newborn son up to see her at BV Manor. And even though she was so changed from the Grandma I grew up with, I saw that familiar smile and recognition in her as I helped her hold her then-newest great grandchild. And I will always hold that in my heart as my last time seeing her, just like I will always have all of my special memories of growing up with such a wonderful woman. We love you, Grandma!

The funeral went smoothly and was a wonderful tribute to a fabulous woman. Grandma was very loved, and there were many people who wanted to help share in remembering her.

But a major snag in the day was that my sister had woken up that morning running a fever and feeling sick. As soon as I saw her face and heard her symptoms, I just knew she had the flu virus that I had suffered through before Christmas. And because she had teeny tiny Parker with her and had been breathing all over her sweet babe, it was decided that they both needed to see a doctor to evaluate if Tamiflu was necessary. And being that we were in rural Iowa and the closest Urgent Care was an hour away, I drove them up to Storm Lake for a visit to the Emergency Room directly after leaving the funeral.

Poor Libba! She had flown up to the farm to be there for the funeral and had to miss it in order to stay quarantined. I knew exactly how awful she was feeling from the sickness, but I knew she was more upset about not being able to say Goodbye to Grandma. So terrible. But, thank goodness, little Sweet P didn’t get sick, and my Mom and I were able to help take care of the baby while Lib got some rest.

My flights home were very early and uneventful. I had never been so happy to see Chris and the kids as I was when I walked through the concourse in Asheville. It was an emotional, exhausting week, yet one filled with lots of love and laughing and stories about my amazing Grandma. I will miss her terribly,