Contemplating Gramma

Diane says I must delve deeper into Gramma. After all, she is the grandparent we knew best. I've been contemplating her a lot the past few days. If I recall correctly, yesterday was the 19th anniversary of her death. The Ides of March. How appropriate, since Gramma could be as bossy as Caesar. When people recall Gramma, it's usually how bossy she was, how critical she was, how stubborn she was, how she fought with everyone. But these recollections are usually made with great fondness. I was reading some of her letters recently, which I saved from college. She liked to ponder life and give advice. She liked to remind me that I was named after her but couldn't resist adding "even if it is only the middle name." She wanted to be a writer. She used to say Grampa was a saint. Not a saint in a religious sense, but a saint because he tolerated her so well. Though I never knew him, I always imagined him as a perfect compliant husband. She made the best lemon meringue pie in the world. She had dinner with us almost every Sunday. I picture her in her pink suit sitting at the table in the dining room, everyone else long finished with dessert, Gramma still working on her meal. She said she ate slowly because she had so much to talk about. Then we'd play Categories. Everyone picked a category, Gramma would always pick Flowers and she always won in that category. Half the time I wasn't sure if she was making up some of the names of those flowers. It was never a simple "Daisy" or "Rose" but instead "Delphinium" or "Rudbeckia". "Yeah sure Gramma, whatever you say." But now that I actually know what a delphinium and rudbeckia look like, I wish she was here to help me cultivate my garden. And teach me how to make that meringue. I'm quite sure she would have loved my boys, though she she would no doubt be disappointed that they don't play bridge. She used to ask "What do you young people talk about?" She thought we should be talking about esoteric things, like philosphy. Did she think that in her day young people didn't talk about inane things, like who liked whom, what music was good, what clothes were in style? She had high expectations, as well she should. Overall I think she'd be pretty happy about how her many grandchildren, and great grandchildren, turned out. Though it was sad when she died, I've never really felt like she left us. Yesterday around 5:30 I saw great beams of sunlight breaking through the clouds, casting glory onto an otherwise gray winter day. Was that you Gramma, reminding us that it was the Ides of March?