Grandma Betty

My Grandma Betty died on Sunday.
My Grandma Buttsy, who I can envision clearly, puttering around the kitchen, making mashed potatoes and offering me grape soda.
She once made me a popcorn ball the size of a basketball for my birthday.
She had a garden that was so lovely, so tasty, that I thought for sure her gardening genes were so strong they would automatically be passed on to me. Alas . . .my attempts at gardening will never compare to Grandma Betty's.
She loved her cat Monsieur, and he loved to sit on her lap while they watched the news. How she bragged about that cat.
She had this one glass top table that was hollow on the inside, filled with a fairy wonderland of trolls and fake moss and another world. As a kid, I never grew tired of looking down through the table top to see if anything new had moved in.
We played gin, Pokeno, rummy, waterworks, dominoes, Yahtzee. Maybe she taught me how to gamble?
She had a giant trunk full of legos that were at our disposal every time we came over. I would drag it out from her decorated craft room and take over the living room floor.
I recall perfume bottles in her bedroom, and of course Betty Boop paraphernalia scattered about.
For so many years, Christmas was held at her house and it was a scene from a film--the dressed tree in the the corner, with wrapped gifts teeming underneath, and loud and raucous children whipping in and out while Grandma would yell at us for being too loud or for getting underfoot in the kitchen.
She was soft and wrinkly and had a beautiful head of silver hair that curled and flopped above her thick glasses.
She was a good Grandma, and it has been hard over the past few years watching dementia grab hold of her mind. It feels strange to say "I miss her" now that she has passed, because truthfully we have all been missing her for quite some time.
Thank you for your prayers.
July 23, 2012