Whenever we visited my grandparents’ house when I was little, I knew where I wanted to be. I would head straight into their kitchen and sit down on the floor by the little cabinet under their built-in oven. There I always knew I would find a veritable smorgasbord of sweets - cookies, candies, crackers, anything I could ever want. She always had those vanilla, chocolate and strawberry wafer cookies (which to this day I crave) and weird peanut butter wafer cookies. It was especially wonderful when I would spend the night, because then grandma would let me into the cabinet whenever I wanted - even before breakfast.

I remember that she would take us out in their backyard, which was cool because they lived in the city, and everything is a little different in the city. I think they had an alley next to the house, and they had a garden in the back that had a sidewalk that divided it. (At least, that’s what I remember.)

Grandma had red Bic pens in her laundry room. We were trying to write something one day, and the pen wouldn’t write. She showed me that if you touch the tip of the pen to your tongue and then try to write with it, it would generally start writing like magic. I still use that trick to this day.

Grandma and Grandpa inherited a house in the country and had to clean all the junk out of it. (I don’t remember whose house it was, but I do know that my grandparents were eventually screwed out of it by a family member.) My dad and I were down there one day to help them. I remember that it was soooo hot, and the house didn’t have air conditioning. Grandma came out with big tall glasses of cold lemonade, and everything seemed a lot brighter after that.

I think I was about 6 or 7 when my grandparents moved to a trailer in another town. I’d never been inside a trailer, and thought it was pretty groovy that their new house had wheels! (It was on a permanent slab, but you could still stick your head underneath it and see the wheels.) There was a swimming pool in the trailer park (which is cooler than most people think when you say “trailer park” and think of a nasty, run-down white trash gross area). When we spent the night there Grandma would take us to the pool and just sit and let us play for hours.

Grandma introduced me to the joys of Dr. Pepper. She’d put bottles of it in the freezer until they got slushy, and we’d open them and she’d show me how to glug the DrP as it came out of the top of the bottle. Then we’d put straws in them and enjoy our soda.

I remember Grandma loved to play solitaire. (Remember solitaire when it was played with real playing cards?) She taught me how to lay the cards out and how to shuffle them (and she’d help me when my fingers were too small to do it). She also showed me how to cheat with the pile when we ran out of possibilities! We would sit across the table from each other with our cards on the table and play and play.

When I got older my grandparents moved to a very tiny town in mid-Missouri called Salem. As my friend Kathy and I were making our very first drive to college down I-44, we passed an exit for Salem. Excited, we turned off and headed for our very first Big Adventure - finding my grandparents. We drove for over an hour in the pouring rain down little winding country roads until we got to Salem. Unfortunately, my grandparents’ address wasn’t in the phone book and I couldn’t find anyone who knew them. (It wasn’t as small a town as I originally thought.) Frustrated, I called them, telling them I didn’t know where I was except that we were in Salem at a Phillips 66 gas station, and did they want to meet up with us? Grandpa thought we were crazy but met up with us anyway, and we talked for a little while before Kathy and I headed back to Springfield MO for school.

Grandpa was a special man. They always tell the story that when I was little I was at their house and as they carried in the groceries I decided to sit on a bag that was on the floor. It had the bread on top, which was decidedly squished when I stood up. Grandpa called it “Bunky Bread” and referred to me frequently as “Bunky” after that.

Grandpa and I had a secret. Have a secret. And I have never, ever told a soul, nor will I ever. It is probably one of the few “secrets” I’ve ever kept. And I will take it to my grave. When we were visiting, and had to leave, he’d ask me, do you remember our secret? Yes Grandpa. Well, he’d say, come over and whisper it to me. And I would.

Grandpa had diabetes and he wouldn’t take care of it. Because of that, he ended up having one of his feet amputated. It made me nervous to be around him after that, but he never complained about it. I don’t know why, but when I was a teenager I was very uncomfortable around older people. The one thing I really remember, though, was that we’d be visiting and he’d say, “Come over and sit on my lap.” No, grandpa, I’d laugh - I’m too big now. But he’d insist. Even with his bad diabetes-burdened circulation and amputated foot, he’d take me on his lap and I’d sit there like I was three instead of nineteen.

Grandpa died in 1992, the day before my first day of spring break my junior year in college. He’d been sick for a while, but no one had told me how sick. My dad called me that night to tell me he was gone. I was so upset. It wasn’t fair that God always took the good ones early.

Grandma didn’t cope well with Grandpa’s passing. In a wave of grief, Grandma threw herself toward the coffin, sobbing Grandpa’s name. After that, we all knew she was just waiting her turn. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be with him.

You’re with him now, Grandma. I’m so glad I got to be with you in the end. I’m glad you aren’t suffering anymore, that there will be no more complications to deal with. Enjoy being with your family again. You looked so peaceful when you passed. I love you very much.

Grieving,
michelle