Grandma B

My grief over my husband's brain is raw and angry and recurring. It lies dormant only to burst forth in a torrent of tears and curse words. It is my friend - a back up emotion when I am too shocked to feel. I am comfortable with my angry grief.

For the past two days I have been experiencing a different kind of grief. Instead of the fire of one thousand suns, this grief is like fog or mist. I am grieving for my husband's grandmother. She was 86 and she had a stroke. She died surrounded by loved ones. I am absolutely positive that if you asked her to name her 20 closest relatives, she would not name me and I am okay with that. I adored her though.

She could break a banana in half, which was even more impressive before you discovered that she would score the banana peel with her thumbnail before breaking it clean through.

My husband and I would make a game of trying to pay for things for her. She hated to let anyone pay for anything so you had to be really tricky. Once Karl put her bananas on the counter with his things before she noticed. She fussed at him afterwards, but he managed to spend 40 cents on her. Another time Karl and I were replacing her shower hardware and somehow, in the trips back and forth to the hardware store, I managed to buy her a four dollar tool. I was inordinately proud of myself.

When I met Grandma I was already married to Karl by about two months and I was about a month pregnant with our second child. Our eldest was two and extremely shy. As we were leaving Grandma's house, my mother-in-law encouraged my eldest to give Grandma a kiss. My eldest got a look of horror on their face - the kind of look only a small child faced with having to kiss an elderly relative can pull off. As my mother-in-law prodded my child, her mother said, "Leave that child alone," and won my heart. There is nothing, nothing so endearing to me as someone who will stand up for my children. My mother-in-law was well-intentioned and I wasn't angry with her - it was just nice to hear Grandma take my child's side over anyone else's. I was too new to the family to feel comfortable saying anything about kissing Grandma.

When our daughter was two and we went to visit Grandma, our eldest had warmed up enough to hug her goodbye. Our daughter is not shy and she is a hugger and a kisser. So when it was her turn to hug Grandma goodbye, she went for a kiss too. Grandma turned her head so she could have her cheek, but she turned her chubby cheeks to kiss her on the mouth. My mother in law told me later that Grandma didn't kiss anyone on the mouth.

That may have been the same visit that our eldest poured my new purple nail polish all over the guest bed at Grandma's house. I was mortified and offered to buy her new sheets, but, of course, she refused to let me buy anything.

I only saw Grandma once or twice a year, especially since we've moved across the country. I rarely spoke with her on the phone, but I could always tell when Karl was on the phone with her because they were the shortest conversations.

"Alright Sugar, love you, you take care," she would say when she was done with you.

We saw her a few months ago, leaving our kids with my mom because Grandma was nearly blind and our children are very active. We only stayed for a night. We watched Antiques Roadshow and a few cooking shows. I know we chatted but I don't know about what. I know Karl took pictures of her to make a portrait from. I do remember one thing she said to me.

"I love your children, but they don't mind."

Every time I think of it, I bust out laughing. Of course my children wouldn't mind, by the time we get to her house they have always been in the car for at least three hours. I have heard from one of her five kids that he didn't mind as a child either. I love that she always thought she was right and that she always had an opinion. I love that she told me my children don't mind.

I really loved her and I am sad I won't see her anymore.