I often think of my grandma Clara. She departed several years ago and, honestly, if you ask me the date or the year, I cannot say. I can say that I spent several days searching the internet for her obituary only to find out about a month or so later that it was her wish to have no services or obituary. It is too bad that was her wish, I bet a lot of people were looking for an obituary or a memorial gathering. Note to all the dying people(that means everybody): the living want to read your obituary and they want to get together to remember you, please let them.
I have two grandparents left. My mother’s father and my father’s mother. I have grown up with my father’s mother, Marion, seeing her at least weekly until adulthood when the rest of my life took over. We even went skiing together many times during my teenage years.
Even with grandma Marion still alive and kicking, with two partial hip replacements, and nearing her ninetieth year, I still often think of grandma Clara. Grandma Clara lived in Arizona so I referred to her as grandma-in-Arizona most of my young life. I never called her grandma Clara. I had grandma and grandma-in-Arizona.
I think sometimes my grandma Clara might be hanging around. Sometimes I feel her with me when I am driving on a two-lane country road. There are some specific places that make me think of her but I don’t know why. Maybe now I think of her around those places because I thought of her the last time I drove through. I always hear the same thing: Do what you want, do what makes you happy, don’t waste your life. Maybe I am just hearing what I want to hear.
Maybe I think of her while driving because I remember so fondly riding around with her when I was a girl visiting in Arizona. She had a convertible. We would go shopping or take the dog to the beauty shop. I remember a time going to Mexico (border town) with grandma and my aunt after I graduated from high school. I had to drive them home as they were not able. In that town they just let you walk around with your margaritas. My grandma and my aunt did just that. I was too young for too many margaritas but old enough to become a designated driver.
I do feel her with me sometimes. Is she always with me? Is it a drive-by hello? Will she be there on the other side to greet me when it is my time to depart?
This photo is from many years ago with my grandmas. I’m the one in the middle.