Grandma

My Grandma was the most emotional person I have ever met. My dad, the youngest of all 6 children, would pick out the most ridiculously sappy card for her birthday and Mothers Day and she would read it and gush, "Oh John!" and she would cry and cry and I would look at my Dad, who would just be so proud of himself for it.
She was also the most gullible, falling for anything my Dad would say to her. He loved teasing her and when she would finally figure out that no one had whatever disease he had made up that day, she would laugh and shout, "Ayeri John!" 
She was a woman who wore her heart on her sleeve no matter what. She proudly displayed her love, her laughter, her insecurities, her curiosity and her life for all to see. Growing up she was my squishy Grandma sanctuary. Some of my earliest memories are with her and my Grandpa, of course, but mostly her face and her laugh. She would set the table, a huge spread every single night, and there was always a stick of butter and white bread set out. I remember running into the kitchen, peeking through legs to make sure the coast was clear and using my hand like a scoop to get a big chunk of butter and then running down the plastic lined hallway shoving my butter hand in my mouth, while my Grandma yelled, "Welp, Sara's gettin in the butter again!"
They took me all over the country. My Grandpa was always the driver so it was up to my Grandma to entertain me. At one pit stop we bought some scotch tape and my Grandma let me tape up her whole, entire arm, like a cast. I used the entire roll and probably would have used more if we had anymore, she never complained about taking it off or said it was too tight, once I started she encouraged me to keep on going, use the whole damn thing.
We played tic-tac-toe constantly and I ate her papaya pills like candy, we bought fishing poles with little magnets on the end and fished for tiny magnet fish in the front seat of the cadillac for hours.
They took me across country when I was 3, 4, and 5 years old and the only time I remember her yelling at me was at the Grand Canyon. I walked off and didnt tell her where I was going and when she found me she yelled her favorite catch phrase, "Dear Lord Jesus!" to which I responded with equal sass, "Dear Lord Jesus!" she gasped and told me I was not allowed to take the Lords name in vain! She took my hand and led me back to the car where I sulked in the back, wondering why she was the only one allowed to say that.
My sulking didnt last long because I quickly got to sit in the front with them and snuggled into her.
I would take up the whole bed and drape my arms and legs over her body in every single hotel room, she encouraged me to collect rocks and sand from each place that we went, she let me jump on all the beds, she bought me as much disgusting rock candy as I wanted, she would go on all the rides at Disney Land even if she didnt want to, she let me say no to the guy at Sea World when he picked me out of all the kids in the stadium to go and pet the Orca and then let me cry into her when I decided that I really did want to do it.
She was such a solid place of comfort and stability for me at such an early age; she was the ultimate Grandmother.
As I grew older and eventually moved out and started a family of my own she would call at least once a month and dish about the family. That was my favorite thing about her, she was always making phone calls, making sure we were still involved with the family, asking about how we were and getting the scoop on our lives and making sure we knew what was going on in everyone else's as well. She made sure we all had Christmas presents and called on my birthday every year. She was so loving and kind and her laugh was classic, Ill never forget that Grandma laugh, or when she would call us "spoiled B-R-A-T's". She had so many  Grandma phrases, it was basically her own language.
Seeing her rapid decline after Grandpas death was painful.
Everytime I would talk to her she would say,"I just miss him so much." They spent their entire lives together. He would walk her to lunch and home from school when she was in Elementary School, they were always in the same classes and when he went off to the military she tried to move on but when he came home from the Military, he was sitting on her porch waiting for her.
They were married shortly after.
They grew up together, raised their kids together, and watched their kids raise their kids together and all of a sudden he was gone.
I went and saw her a few times in the hospital, always thinking that she would get better.
I tried to keep our conversations light and fun because she was in so much pain, physically and mentally.
I told her a story about locking my keys in my car at yoga and a few serendipitous things that happened afterward and she said, "Oh well you was lucky then!" I replied "Well things normally happen that way for me. I just trust in the Universe that things will be provided and they are."
That hippy sentence came out before I could reel myself in, she was a deeply religious woman and probably didnt want to hear about salt rocks, cinnamon oil and the Universe providing things for me, but she surprised me.
"Yes, just trust. Trust in God that He will provide. He has a plan and if I get better, I get better. I just trust."
That threw me for a loop. I wanted her to get better so bad. I wanted her to walk out of there skipping and laughing and eating rock candy with me and holding my hand.
The thing is, that was my selfish want. I wanted her here with us, with me, because I wanted her to call me and let me know how things were going. I wanted her laugh, I wanted her to tell me I'm looking too thin and to get another bite, to ask if I was going to get a "yogurt" job after getting my RYT 200, I wanted her to tell me she was great, that everything was fine and she was the same snuggly, squishy Grandma that she always was.
But that wasn't fair to her. After giving her life to her family, it was time for me to let her go.
She was in the hospital for about a month and a half and they decided to let her go home, she was on hospice for a week or so. At around midnight on Feb. 13, she passed away.
It was the first day of me being 31 and my Dad called to tell me she was gone.
I took the day to be sad and went to the beach by myself, the beach where I would go with my Grandparents to fly fancy kites and eat ice cream. A thought cut into my wallowing, how perfect of my Grandma to wait until Valentines Day to pass away.
I imagined her getting up to Heaven, finding Grandpa and putting her hand on her hip saying, "Well, did you even get me a card?"
I chuckled at the thought and really hoped there was a 24 hour Rite Aid in Heaven for my Grandpa to run to.
She instilled in me a sense of love and acceptance and reluctant adventure I cannot describe, she was scared of everything but always sat with it, even when Grandpa made her get into a helicopter for a ride above some city they were visiting, with her eyes squeezed tight and her hands over her face, with my Grandpa commenting on the video camera "Come on Jack.", she did it. She was there, she experienced it. She may not have liked it, but she did it, being terrified and all.

So, Grandma, I know we will meet again and I hope I can come to you and say that I lived too, I lived with fear but also the knowledge that I would never get the chance again; I carved my own path, just like you.