Wednesday, June 2, 2010


i've been thinking of my grandparents quite a bit lately. With the 1 year anniversary of my grandpa's death fast approaching-June 26th-it makes me so sad that they're missing out on my family's lives and also we're missing out on theirs. All of my grandparents had the best stories, knew exactly what to do, and could make even the most horrible situation seem less bleak. I don't know how they did it, nor do I think I ever will-I just miss them and the comfort, love, and support they gave me.
It's all the little quirks and ways of my grandparents that make me miss them. My Grandma Judy called every one Dolly. She had the softest hands and could make even a twig look beautiful after 18 years of being a florist.
My Grandma Sandy always had some thing to say-whether it be sarcastic or not, it was ALWAYS the truth. She loved her grandkids like she was born to love us and no one else-she quit smoking after probably 40 plus years because my cousin had asthma. When we stayed the night she'd make us homemade hot chocolate and toast. Thus far I have found nothing that compares to it.
My Grandpa Richard had a very simply routine after his retirement and looking back now it seems so lonely. He watched a lot of tv-CSI was his favorite and since I followed it too we never went without a conversation. It was a common thing when we all got together to play marbles. I was lucky enough to get a marble board he hand carved. I can't wait to show my niece and nephew-and one day my kids-how to play. He also showed me a different side to an old farmer from southwest Iowa when he voted for Barack Obama. See my grandpa lived in an era where using negro to refer to an African American was ok and he still used the word. But he showed me that even the most set in their ways men can step out of their comfort and do what they believe in.
I just miss them a lot. I never thought that all my grandparents would be gone before I turned 24. That they won't be here to watch me get married, have kids, buy a more Christmas Eve dinners, no more getting dinner with Richard, no more watching Grandma Sandy cook Sunday dinner. And although we've attempted to keep the traditions alive they're not the same-just moving locations of the regular events ruins it. When I go home I jump from house to house-it was the most depressing thing to have to go clean my room out at Richard's. And then it makes it all the more real that it's never going to be my home again. I can't stay there when I come back to town or see the light on in the window when I come over the hill. I haven't been in my Grandma Sandy's house since she passed away over 2 years's just not her house any more. If you take away the person who made the house-the home will never be the same.

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