Passing

My grandmother, my father's mother, died last week. This past Thursday we held the funeral and burial services. My father's family flew in from across the country to mourn the loss and many family friends, both ours and hers, showed up to pay their respects. Her death was sad, as most death is, but not unexpected. I've always felt that grieving is a private thing and because of that, I've agreed to the idea of a funeral. That people need to gather together to celebrate the life of someone or mourn their loss depending on how you look at it. I just want to share a story about her. it speaks to our relationship and what I'll always remember about her. Bare with me.

When I was young, around four or five years old, I would travel downtown with my grandmother to go shopping. there were several stops that were always made. Filenes and then Filenes Basement. The final stop would be Woolworths. That store no longer exists but I remember spending a lot of time there because there was a restaurant in the basement. We would meet up with her sister and her sister's husband and eat lunch in this basement diner-esque restaurant. I liked the place because they had fish sticks and french fries on the kids menu. As a kid, there is no better combination.

The second part of this story takes place on Sundays. Every Sunday my family would visit my grandmother after church. My sister and I would watch outrageous television, like Hercules and Xena Warrior Princess. My grandmother would offer us ginger ale, or "tonic" as she called it. She would also serve us fish sticks and french fries.

It struck me that she remembered my love of fish sticks and french fries. It that kind of gesture that I will remember. She noticed the little things and never forgot the small details. I'll miss that, but I'll remember it as well.

I love you Nana.