You’ve always given me some truly ridiculous stories to tell. In fact, you’ve made it a point to tell me something along the lines of “when I’m gone, you’re gonna have a lot of memories.” I can’t help but agree with that, seeing as how, when you last said this, you had just picked me up from my house, pink robe, pajama pants, and all. You told me to look out for your van, but I forgot, and you trekked up to the house from the car, probably gaining the attention and confusion of some neighbors along the journey. You’ve always done this kind of stuff, so I can’t say it really surprised me.
You have a lot of odd children, so I guess the craziness gene doesn’t skip generations. I guess it’s something to look forward to as I age though.
The other day, one of the cousins sent me a video of you dancing in some sort of public building… Maybe a store or restaurant. Either way, there you were, dancing along to the music, doing that signature Grandma Edith move… You should really patent it by the way. When I told you about the video later on, you shook your head, a with a laugh, stated, “If I’d known she was filming, I would have danced more dramatically.” You are a nut, but that’s one of the things we all love about you.
I remember going to dq with you one Friday night in high school. You were eating away at your ice cream, when you randomly called out to a few boys who had walked in. They were wearing “Nooksack Valley HS” football jerseys, and I guess you thought that meant they knew me. “Do you know Melissa?” You asked, “she goes to school with you.” My face was red hot as I hid myself as much as possible.
During the summer after college, I had quite a few incidents with you. One was while we were outside, you were gardening as I rambled on about something, playing catch with chase. There was a neighbor cat who tried to sneak into the garden, maybe seeing it as a litter box, like c.c sometimes did, but you saw him. “Bark, bark, bark,” you yelled out to the cat, stopping him in his tracks before he ran the other way. I shook my head, laughing to myself, while you went back to gardening. An odd one you are.
There was a shopping trip at 11 at night, where I ran into you: a friend pointing out the grandma buying fruit when it was probably her bed time, to which I replied, “that’s my grandma.” There was a trip to your house, where I was sent home with a sack of potatoes, as opposed the run-of-the-mill cookies that most grandmas give out. There were those countless football games, where you and dad would take turns yelling at the screen, disciplining the Seahawks for that stupid play. There was a drive past the Skagit mall, when you waved your hand and yelled “Hi Melanee,” from the car, because I’m certain she could totally hear you. All these memories I couldn’t have if I didn’t have you as a grandma. All your nutty ways, and completely ridiculous situations you get yourself into. These are all those classic grandma Edith moments.
Aside from your obvious wacky personality, you are also kind. I can’t even begin to recall all of the times I’d catch you talking to some kiddos in checkout lines, or some random guy in the freezer section, laughing it up like you’d been friends for so long, even though you’d just met. You have a love for people that not many others possess. You can talk to just about anyone, about anything, and you never seem to care about the awkward moments that might ensue. You embrace the odd, and exude an air of positivity. It’s what makes you, you.
Your humor, love for people, and love for Christ are just a few of the many wonderful things about you. So yes grandma, yes I will always have many memories to look back on and remember you through. I will always remember you well.
With laughter and a lot of love,