Finite

My mother's mother passed away last week. I am a bit melancholy about it, but not really sad. I am sad for the situation. I am sad for my mom. But I am not sad for me. Don't cry for me, Argentina.

She and I never really had a relationship. She didn't send birthday cards or call and speak with me. She was only ever important to me because she was important to my mother. And just about every child loves his or her mother, even if the mother is kind of crappy. (My mom is great, for the record.) My grandmother's memory was always poor. She was relatively pleasant to me as an adult and when I was a child, she treated me about the same as she treated all children, which was to basically ignore them.

I have a single positive memory of her, but many negative ones. The only good thing I remember is this: When I was about 10 years old, I visited her by myself. I am not sure where my folks went to. I had just moved South and missed my Ohio so much. It was Christmastime and snowing big fluffy flakes. She bundled me up in a bunch of old clothes and bundled herself too. We went out and played in the snow. It was a nice packing snow, not too wet. We had snowball fights and made snow angels and rolled up giant snowballs, too heavy to lift into a snowman. My grandma wasn't the kind of lady who played with kids. So as far as a good memory, it is a pretty awesome one. I will always remember the one time my grandma played and laughed with me.

There was a lot of turmoil in that house. She and my grandfather had a snippy kind of relationship where there was always contention. Even when they weren't angry, they yelled. But they were married for over 50 years. I did a photo montage for them for their 50th anniversary. My grandmother was beautiful when she was young, like we all are. Pictures always seem to show the happiest of times. She was always smiling, surrounded by smiling people. These were the people I came from. I have some respect for that. Even if we did not have a good relationship, I came from her. Her genes are in me and in my children.

She had a long terrible battle with cervical cancer. The third woman in my family felled by the disease. A cancer that rendered her unrecognizable and in horrible agony. I want to talk my mother into a preventative hysterectomy, and maybe even myself. I don't know if that is smart or wise or even effective. I am glad my grandmother is no longer in pain. No one should have to endure that.

She leaves behind four children, 10 grandchildren, and 10 great-grandchildren that I know of. My children and I are in that group. I am not sure what I want to say. The lesson she has taught me with her life is this: To live my life as to be remembered with fondness. To build happy memories with my children because it matters. And to keep up with my annual lady visits. Amen.