My grandmother passed away yesterday. She was 96 years old, and up until recently in pretty good health. I have such fond memories of her. One of my favorite things as a kid was spending the night at grandma's house. We would run around and play in her yard all day long. She was the best cook ever. Even scrambled eggs and grilled cheese sandwiches tasted the best at her house. Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve dinners are still the stuff of legend. The day we moved from Gaffney to Utah when I was almost 13, we stopped by Grandma's house for one last breakfast. She made biscuits and gravy, eggs and grits. It was hard to say good bye. When I moved back in high school to swim with my old club in Spartanburg, I would go to her house on the weekends when I could get a ride. There was never any pressure. I would lounge around and read Betty Neels novels, one of her favorites, and eat amazing but simple food. She never had a big sweet tooth. Zucchini bread and Bryer's vanilla ice cream were pretty much the extent of her sweets, along with the best pecan pie imaginable. I am so grateful that I took the opportunity to take my children to see her 6 years ago, rather than go to Costa Rica, as Marshall had originally been planning. She was 90 at the time and still living on her own in the same house she and my grandpa moved into when he came home from WWII in 1945. They just sold that house this past year. Although I am glad that she is at peace and not suffering, it is strange to know that she is gone. I will miss her.
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