since my grandma died on monday, i’ve been trying to think of my very first memory of her. so far i haven’t been able to single it out. she was just always there. i can’t remember a time that she wasn’t-sometimes she felt as much my mom as my own mother.

she knitted me things. and made my clothes, even when i was a baby. i have sweaters put away from when i little. a sweater that tells the story of the three little kitten who lost their mittens. another that’s got little red riding hood and the big bad wolf. she would still make me clothes as i got older too. she used to make me long dresses to wear to church on sunday with my grandfather. she was always there when i got home from school because my mom worked two jobs to send me to private school. i got to have a snack and then had to do my homework before anything else. no matter what.

i remember the day she reconnected with her brother after 30+ years. i was the first one to get home and the only other one who spoke or read any French. that was something special that we shared since i was in college and really started learning the language. she would correct my pronunciation and read my written work sometimes.

i used to talk to her a lot on the phone when i was in college. that was one of the hardest parts of the last year or two is that i didn’t get to talk to her very much about things. she grew to dislike talking on the phone, because she had problems hearing, holding the phone and sometimes had a hard time being understood on the phone. we often didn’t exchange much more than i love you’s, but it was enough.

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