Grandmas

This Saturday would've been my paternal grandma's 87th birthday.  She passed away just over a year ago, and I've missed her every day.  I knew I would.  My maternal grandma passed away almost 11 years ago, and I'd become accustomed to missing.

What has caught me off guard is how much more acutely I miss one now that I've lost the other.  They are both on my mind constantly.  Tiny things--smells, objects, colors, places--remind me of them throughout the day.  The mall at school has large brick planters running the length of its center, filled with blooming petunias.  Every time I walk past them and the smell hits my nose, I am sitting on Grandma Lettie's sidewalk soaking up the sunshine in one of the few sunny spots in her well-shaded yard.  I see a handful of marbles on the floor in the playroom, and suddenly I'm sitting on the floor of Grandma Elda's living room, playing Chinese checkers with Michael and listening to Highway to Heaven on the TV.  Its constant, all day long.

I miss them both--and all the parts of my life that are so wrapped up in them--with an ache that is somehow both fierce and dull, persistent.  It is a constant reminder of how grateful I am to have people in my life who are worth missing every moment of the day.  A reminder of how grateful I am that separations are temporary.