One Down, None to Go

Well my last gramma has gone on ahead of the crowd. There's no firing line in front of us now, no buffer. Just my parents, and oblivion.

There's all this oblivion in Mom Mom dying, because she was so far away in South Carolina and so far away having lost all her memory for the last year at least. But I will miss her sugary Southern way of saying "Darlin" and her millions of shoes and her sparkly dresses. She had so many outfits, and all a size 0 at most. For someone so short she could really pack a wallop. She had unusual ways of making you feel small -- perhaps because she was, in fact, a popcorn kernel of a person herself. It's always the little dogs and the little people who have the loudest voices.

More about her later, got one baby down with an earache and one baby needs a bath. But I have to say, I've had the greatest grammas. One was a lover, and one was a fighter.