This week Grammy would have turned eighty-eight. If you know anything about me, you know I loved my Gram with all that I had. When she moved into Pop’s house a few years back – my childhood room, became hers. On Memorial Day weekend, I sat in our room, that was now a mix of both of us- her bed, my shelves- her pictures, my teenage scrawl still tucked in the closet. As I poked through remnants of eighty-six years on this earth, I kept stashing stuff in my bag, things that she had kept along the way, things that held a little bit of her. And, I thought, this week, for all those cousins by the dozens out there, and for all of you, that like me, love your grammies too, I could show you a little bit of what made this woman, just so – amazing.
This is a tea towel. I don’t even know if they make tea towels anymore, except to sell in tourist gift shops. My Gram was a sergeant in WWII. Pops always used to joke that kids couldn’t rag on him and say his mom wore combat boots – because she did. This towel has an image of a WAC member on it getting a letter from home. Adorable – but here’s the better story-
When gram was 81, right before I got married, she needed to have a hole in her heart, that had been there her whole life, taken care of. As Russ and I drove her and Grumpa up to Brigham and Women’s hospital in Boston- she whispered to me in the back of the car, “Damn Army gave me an exam every month to make sure I wasn’t pregnant during the war – you would think they could have caught this”. Perfect. Did I mention, my grandmother was perfect.