In Memories

My father took me to see the musical Cats when I was eight. I instantly fell in love with the music and with one song in particular: Memories. I was so taken with this experience that my grandmother bought me the sheet music in order to encourage my piano lessons. (It was very obvious from an early age that I would never be a great singer.) I loved these lessons with my grandmother even if I didn't love piano lessons themselves. I loved watching her aging graceful hands fly across the keys.
I suppose this may be why, when seeing my Grambie weak and skinny in the hospital, her bony fingers are what struck me the most.
My father called me after my grandmother passed away last week and told me how he always really liked her. "She was such a sweet woman." And I had to laugh. My Grambie was a wonderful, amazing, strong, beautiful woman but sweet is not an adjective that I would use to describe her. She was a force to be reckoned with and my brothers and I grew up calling her "The Dragon Lady" a moniker she gleefully embraced. She was an amazing grandmother and she was always doting on her grandchildren, but anyone else better not cross her.
Particularly kittens.
Before my GG (her mother) died, my grandmothers would load up their travel trailer and tool around the country on various adventures. They would often stop back in College Station (my first home) on their way coming or going and bring me and my older brother "kerprises." Or "surprises" for those of you who don't speak little-kid.
When we were around six years old our next-door neighbor brought home a new baby kitten. All of the neighborhood kids loved this kitten and we took him everywhere with us.
My grandmothers rolled into town shortly after the kitten became a new addition to our gang and the travel trailer was a huge hit. When it came time for our grandmothers to leave, all of the neighborhood kids came out to wave goodbye from the street. There were probably eight of us kids ranging in ages 4-10. My grandmother slowly and carefully backed up the travel trailer being mindful of the children. But not of the kitten.
I still can't get the image out of my head. It wasn't pretty. See, something happens sometimes when the nerves kick in and the body starts flopping? I don't know. But there were the eight of us staring in horror at the newest member of our gang lying in the street... well, not lying exactly. My dad grabbed the kitten in his shirt and ran off with it trying to shield us from the unexpected life lesson. My grandmother felt horrible. And even 20 years later she would be a little defensive when we joked around about the time she ran over the neighborhood kitten in front of a horrified gang of children.
My Grambie could do anything. And she did. She was president of her sorority (a precursor to being president of her senior center) she won swimsuit pageants, held numerous jobs, she built shelves, re-upholstered furniture, sewed dresses and took care of my GG. Anything she put her mind to she accomplished.
She and I were so different, yet always so very close. Where she was a beauty queen and a born leader, I've always been more go-with-the-flow and shunned the spotlight. But we were both avid readers and addicted to the daily crossword. We both had a sick sense of humor, although mine has always been a little more twisted; more aligned with my mother's and great grandmother's.
But she did love Sex and the City.
So I took her to the first movie. The movie came out a few years after the TV show had ended so somehow the "sex" part of Sex and the City had slipped my mind.
Grambie had been on oxygen for a few years now and when we went out she brought her portable tank with her. Each time she breathed out there was a slight hiss.
So there we were in the movie theater, it was a matinee so the theater was not packed, and a raunchy sex scene was taking place on screen. I was sitting there gripping my seat thinking, "Why on earth did I take my grandmother to see this movie" and through the moans and bed squeaks I could hear a faint "hisss hissss hissss" whispering in the dark from the seat next to mine. As far as uncomfortable moments go, this one was up there.
I miss my Grambie more than I can express. She lived down the street from us in Austin and she's always been a staple in my ilfe. I try to think of how lucky I am that I was so close to her while I have grandparents I barely know.
And I know that some won't appreciate this thought, but I think it's beautiful. Buddhist believe in reincarnation. And part of this belief is that souls travel in groups together. The souls close to you in this life will be close to you in the next. She may not be my grandmother, but she will be part of my life forever. And I love that.