Grandma Rose

I have just returned from my grandmother's funeral in Arizona. The last time I saw her was in March. We passed an afternoon sipping iced tea with my aunt and uncle, watching the sun makes it arc. We passed the evening around the kitchen table in much the same manner, speaking of the present, past, future, me prodding for the missing details in our family history discovering that, now that I am older, the holes are often filled with what I was once too young to know or understand.

She woke with me at 4:30 in the morning and made me green tea before i went to the airport. I missed my flight for those last few quiet moments and with my Grandma. At the time was irritated with myself for creating such a hectic travel day, but I am now grateful I didn't decline that microwaved little cup drunk at her kitchen counter.

She lived a very full life, and was ready to go, I don't begrudge her that, but it is hard to comprehend she will not be be here- delighting in the great grandchildren, making unexpected wise cracks, igniting with laughter at the drop of a hat. For me, Grandma was a place I could go to feel safe, loved and special. She was a place where I could reconnect to where i came from- but it wasn't just her- it was also the aunts and uncles and cousins and nieces and nephews who have moved to Arizona to be near her. Will we all rally together now that we lack a common cause? What will be wihout our matriarch? Do we now shift to concentrate on our more immediate family?

I don't want to lose my connection with that family that is so much a part of me- those quiet men and sarcastic women. Those stoic fundamentalist Christians who will always feed you and put you up for the night. Those starnge accapella hymns and cryptic bible verses. Those folks so unlike my immediate family, and yet the wonder of the ways in which we are the same.