My grandma died in August. She was 98 ½. 98 ½! A phenomenal run. She outlived Castro, but not Jimmy Carter.

She was my last grandparent. My mom’s parents died when I was a kid, and my dad’s dad died over a decade ago. That left grandma, but she had a lot left in her. At one point I hadn’t been home for Christmas for a few years due to Navy obligations. I wouldn’t have gone home that year either, but grandma was getting up there in age and I put my foot down with the captain so I could make sure I made it home at least one more time. I guess this would have been when grandma was 89, on the very cusp of 90. I arrived to find her running around the kitchen, doing the important parts of making Christmas eve dinner. That dinner was always spaghetti with anchovies, and for me that’s grandma’s dish. I made it, here, a few days after she died.

Grandma didn’t really start to fade until about three years back. My wife and I were staying with her for about a month. During that time a tumor was growing on her leg. Benign, but large and prone to bleeding. The family pushed her to get it removed and that was what did it. They put her under to take it out and she didn’t leave the hospital for another two weeks and never totally recovered.

My parents had already rearranged their lives to be able to take care of her. My great uncle, who was my grandpa’s brother and who had married my grandma’s sister, moved himself into a nursing home toward the end, selling the house where we had most often celebrated Christmas. I think he figured it would be easier for everyone. But grandma never wanted to leave her house. She had bought it with my grandpa at least 30 years back, in Florida a block away from the beach. Until the condos across the street stopped trimming their trees you could watch the sunset over the ocean from her balcony. It was decorated with the grandpa’s art and the souvenirs they had picked up on their many world travels.

She lived on the second floor, and the stairs eventually became the obstacle that kept her in her house. Her son-in-law (my uncle) had rebuilt those stairs for her when the old ones were getting rickety. Several years ago we had rigged up a pully system to let her bring groceries up more easily, but eventually grandma was no longer doing her own shopping. She still wouldn’t let anyone get rid of her car, in case she needed it again. A year ago dad installed a chairlift to save them carrying grandma up and down when it was time for doctors’ appointments.

She wasn’t always so old of course. Her and grandpa had quite the life, living abroad for many years and visiting as many countries as they could. In the States they had a big blue van they would travel around in with a mattress in the back, before that sort of thing was cool. We’d visit almost every summer and Christmas. One summer in middle school I visited on my own, staying with them for a month and a half. Grandma could be very much the typical grandma. On that visit I think I had coleslaw for the first time and I discovered I liked it. So she then had some for me with every meal until I didn’t like it anymore. I also discovered in Florida that I liked Tang and so she made sure I had such a steady supply I am pretty sure it gave me stomach problems. Then she could be not so typical. One time (years later of course) I had described a bad experience with tequila and she scolded me for drinking it wrong, explaining the appropriate lime & salt procedure. I couldn’t believe a grandma was allowed to know such things.

Tequila would be old hat though for someone so adventuresome. I think the last international trip she took was all the way to Petra. That must have been right before COVID hit. I remember showing the photos to my friends, who were worried about their own trips. You can’t exactly scooter to Petra either, not that she would ever have. She also came to Zambia when I was there in the Peace Corps. A 92-year-old woman, going on a hiking safari where she could have been attacked by a lion or trampled by a zebra! I liked taking pictures of her sitting in land cruisers; when she didn’t feel like making a particular trek she would just perch herself in the front passenger seat. Though she did manage to hike herself down a long flight of stairs to the viewpoint for Kalambo falls. Indomitable, that one.

Her very final trip though was for me, to see the marriage celebration of my super amazing wife and I. It wasn’t exactly a wedding, but a weekend up in Massachusetts with both our families. This was after the surgery on her leg; at one point she asked my mom what she was doing there, noting “whoever this is for they better really appreciate it.” And I really did. She got to meet my wife’s family, and my father-in-law asked about her every time we spoke, impressed as everyone was by how sprightly she was even then. A much longer time ago, back when I was at the Academy, I took grandpa by car up in Connecticut (grandma was visiting Japan with my sister at the time, so he didn’t have much to do). As we were driving along grandpa told me that we were at the very spot where he had proposed to grandma. Back when they were both so young. And now she finally got to see me married.

My grandma was an amazing person. In writing this I am embarrassed all my memories of her were her as old, though that’s not my fault. What is my fault is that this is the same format of blog post I used for our cat. It’s such an inadequate way to encapsulate a whole life. Grandma saw countries rise and fall, taught generations of students, raised kids, travelled the world and made her home all over. She was mom and wife and friend and auntie and her own unparalleled person. And she was my grandma. I love you, grandma.