Today I said goodbye to one of the most amazing women I've ever had the privilege of knowing, and someone I was truly honored and blessed to call my grandma--my YaYa. In nearly 93 years, YaYa survived several wars, a Great Depression, infections, and cancer. She raised two daughters as a single working mother, and somehow always found the time to write a letter to say hi or for a phone call to check in.
She loved jelly beans, the beach, and a good joke, and nothing made her happier than the warm sun on her face. She worked harder than those half her age, enjoyed water aerobics, and drove well into her 80s, despite--as dad would say--needing a phone book to see over the steering wheel! She always had gum, a tic-TAC, or a tissue at the ready, and vanilla bean ice cream with chocolate syrup was an absolutely acceptable dinner--only for her youngest granddaughter. smile emoticon
I loved spinning in her front yard under her beloved dogwood tree, and during the countless afternoons and evenings with her, while waiting for my parents to pick me up after work, we would watch Jeopardy and whatever basketball game was on--of course, only AFTER I finished my homework. She introduced me to sports, chocolate, and God, and she loved her church almost as much as her family. She taught me how to play poker and cheat at Old Maid and Crazy 8's, and always offered to make me a cheese sandwich with a side of Lays potato chips.
She wasn't much for spending a lot of money--but she never sent a letter without at least a little something, usually with the tag line "Have a Coke on me." She always kept an eye out for newspaper articles she thought I'd like or that just seemed interesting. And every holiday, big or small, you could count on getting a 99 cent card with a $5 bill. And in return, she expected nothing less than a phone call or card--hand-written, of course.
Southern values, manners, and class were not lost on this woman, and she was always a model of decorum. YaYa would tell people to "zip it" because she hated the phrase "shut up" and she would always greet you with a "hey, sugar" in the sweetest accent. She never wanted a fuss made over her but was always impeccably dressed when it came time for Sunday church, which she rarely missed. She never met a person who didn't adore her, as nearly everyone affectionately called her YaYa.
She was the most kind, selfless, and thoughtful person I've ever met, and she had a way of making you feel like you were the most special person in the world.
Perhaps my favorite memory was when I was about 10 or 11 years old, YaYa wanted me to learn the Lord's Prayer and recite it to her without looking at the words. She called one day to see if I had memorized it--and I never told her, but I cheated and looked at the words, written in her hand-writing. (What did she expect? She was, in fact, the one who taught me to cheat.) But today, standing in her church, I can honestly say, I didn't have to look at the words once.
All she ever really wanted was for me to find a wonderful man and start a family. And while it breaks my heart that she won't get to see me marry the man of my dreams or hold my children, I know she will be watching over us as Heaven's brightest star and sweetest angel.
It's been almost a month since she passed, and even now it doesn't feel real. But I am able to find peace and comfort knowing she is finally home at St. Stephen's Church, where she always wanted to be. Thank you, YaYa, for showing me what a life well-lived looks like. Love you, and have a coke for me!