My grandma is an awesome lady — I wish I knew her better.
She’s still alive n’ kicking, but my grandma has Alzheimer’s disease and hasn’t recognized me for a long time now. I visit her occasionally and I see her at family dinners, but I could and should visit her more often.
Especially since my grandma has one of the kindest hearts and sweetest dispositions you could ever hope to find in a person — she loves animals and people and I remember someone in my family once telling me that the most terrible cuss they’d ever heard her say was “hell’s bells”!
From what I know from the stories she’s told me, she grew up just a block from where I grew up and attended the same school (back when it was a high school — by the time I went there it had been switched to an elementary school and the high school had been moved to a bigger building down the hill).
I went to the same university as she did, but she majored in social work while I did an English degree.
My grandma even belonged to a sorority (back when sororities did charity work instead of drinking with frat boys) and worked with the YMCA to help underprivileged children.
I remember once she gave me a bottle of pale green glittery nail polish for Christmas, and, upon seeing it, my teenage self exclaimed, “Grandma, this is wicked!”
“Oh… well,” she said, “If you don’t like it, I can always take it back.”
Then I had to explain to her that wicked meant awesome, kind of like how bad can mean good. I think she was a little perplexed, but accepted the fact that I liked her present after all.