My grandmother, Alta, died today. She was 89 years old. She went into the hospital on Thursday, 3 days after her 89th birthday, and never came out. Just like she lived her life, she went out her own way. She told everyone what her wishes were, and that it was time.
You see, my Grandma was always a strong personality. If she didn't want to do something, more than likely it wasn't going to be done. My dad told a story of when he was in Junior High School, and my Grandma dropped him off for school one day. The man behind her in the drop-off line decided she wasn't moving fast enough, and so he hit his horn. Grandma, not one to suffer fools gladly, put the car into park and turned off the engine. Backed up the line for half a mile if the story is to believe. The gentleman, and I use the term loosely if he's bothering my Grandma like this, got out and yelled at her asking what she was doing. My Grandma replied he was being rude, and that she wasn't moving until he apologized. The man grew more frustrated, and traffic ground to a halt outside the school. Finally, from what I've been told, the man came back and apologized for his behavior. Grandma thanked him, started the car, and drove off.
Grandma was also one of the greatest straight men in the history of comedy. We're talking Ernie Wise or Bud Abbott level here. Grandpa got the laughs, but a lot of the time it was because of the exasperation from my Grandma to his stories. He'd start off on a whopper of a story, and while we're laughing at it you'd hear my Grandma from the kitchen with her eternal lament:
"Johnny, now you quit lying to those children and tell them what really happened." Grandpa would always respond, "That IS what happened. At least that's how I remember it."
One of the times that Grandpa told the story, we kept waiting for the correction from my Grandma, but it never came. Turns out it was pretty much a true story. They were getting married, and they were leaving the pastor's (who was her brother) office to walk around the church outside to get to the front. (It was a small church, and to get from there to the sanctuary, you had to either go through the Altar or around back. The Pastor went through the Altar while my Grandparents went around back.) Except someone had moved the stairs. Grandpa jumped down, turned and waited for Grandma to jump down and he'd catch her. She caught him and knocked him over. (Grandpa embellished that "I called to her, 'Fly to me, my little chickadee' before she knocked me over with a cross-body block." Grandma rolled her eyes at that.) I still smile thinking of that.
Grandma also wasn't one to sugar coat things, and she treated me like an adult when I got older because that's how she saw me. In 1999, I went to see her and Grandpa with my family for Christmas. I had just joined the Foreign Service, and was leaving the next summer for my first posting in Suriname. Grandma sat me down, looked me in eye, and let me know that two years is a long time to be away, and that the odds were great that either she or Grandpa probably wouldn't be there when I got back in 2002. When I told her not to talk like that, she looked me in the eyes and gave it to me straight: "Jay, you're an adult and you need to start thinking like one." She was right, as my Grandpa passed away in 2001.
I wanted her to meet my wife and my kids. I'm proud that my daughter has so many strong women that she can model herself after, and my Grandma was definitely one. Luckily for me I got to talk on the phone to her one last time before she passed. I told her I loved her, and that I hoped she was proud of who I'd become, and that I would always love her, and to give Grandpa a hug for me when she sees him.
You know, I like to think that when she got to heaven, Grandpa was waiting there with St. Peter, a cup of coffee in his hand like always, with a smile on his face. Peter would wave her right in, but stop to ask her a question before she got on with her richly deserved reward.
"Mrs. Parker, I just have to ask: Did the spurs story really happen?"
And of course Grandma will smile, look at Grandpa and say, exasperated: "You haven't changed a bit! Now, you tell it the way it really happened Johnny!" Grandpa will laugh and say, "That's how I remember it!" And then they'll walk arm in arm into heaven together. At least that's how I like to imagine it going.
Rest in Peace Grandma. The world was a better place because of you, and I will miss you terribly.
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