I thought of you today when I saw the Pantry cookies in the grocery store aisle and bought some in your honour after not having had them for years. After dinner, I dunked them in milk – like I used to do before I ate them at your house. You always served a huge stack of white bread on a plate on the table at dinner time when we stayed over. We used to roller skate in your basement on skates from the toy room and grabbed Cokes from the bar fridge in the room by the pool table. I sang in your choir, and you sang Climb Every Mountain, among many other things. Eventually when I hugged you you were much shorter than I. Your hair was always white, as far back as I could remember. I can still hear your laugh and see the way you used to ‘hold court’ when a crowd gathered – as invariably it did. You and I wrote letters when I moved away and eventually I had to type mine in 18 point font on the computer because it was easier on your eyes. We said we would celebrate our milestone birthdays together one year – you turning 75 and I within mere days of being fifty years younger. But we sang “Abide with Me” at your funeral before we could keep our engagement and none of us could keep the tears from streaming down our cheeks. It’s been almost eight years, but I still remember.
I thought of you today, Grandma.