What is your favorite memory of a grandparent?
Oh, how I adore my Grandma Rita.
I mean, of course I love her. And admire her. But mostly, I think I adore her.
I adore the memories I have of her when I was growing up. She was what everyone thinks of in a Grandma. She bustled in the kitchen, singing to the radio and moving with a bit of a beat in her step. She’s the type of woman who instantly makes you just a little bit happier being around her.
And she made me feel adored, too. She’s a woman who always had time for the little things, which are often the most important things. She’d stop in her busyness to twirl with me in the kitchen. She wouldn’t just peel an apple for a snack, she’d show me how to do it while creating one, long, twirly red apple peel. She’d make me German pancakes with applesauce, and would serve them on her pretty china she got from Germany... just because I thought it was special. She would play endless games of hearts and cribbage and crazy eights. She’d save the bread crusts and show me the best way to get the squirrels to come to us on the patio.
She knew the little things that made little people happy.
Grandma Rita would walk with me around their yard at the lake so we could admire her purple flowers and refill the bird feeders. Nothing was ever a job... it was just a daily task that was made special because we were doing it together. She was always teaching, always listening, always humming a tune and always making every little thing important.
I truly adore my Grandma Rita.
I love that she was always thrilled to see us. She’d have our bedrooms looking lovely and the toys we cherished ready and waiting. She would show me the little nooks and crannies in their downstairs kitchen that had trinkets I could use when playing store. There were post office looking shelves where things could be organized and imaginations could be fed. She never thought ideas were silly or games were too much trouble.
She seemed to love her life exactly as it was. With her children and grandchildren and her home... full of love and happiness.
At least that’s how it felt to this granddaughter.
I suppose if there is one compliment I could pay her, it would be that she reminds me more of my dad than anyone else. Just like him, she makes a room happier simply by being in it. She is kind and loving and selfless. She cares about people and makes sure they know it. Dad knew how much she loved him, and he adored her, too. The past few years that Grandpa and Grandma lived closer, Dad would call me on the way home from his visits with them. He would tell me about their marble games, and what she had made him for dinner and that he got her home all vacuumed before he left.
He was so very happy to be her son.
I hope I’m like her, too. I hope I always look at my life and find the beauty in it. I hope I always keep a tune at my lips and a beat in my ever-slowing-steps. I hope I always treasure the people in my life and make sure they know it, and make time for the little things that are important to little people. I hope I have her positive nature and happy spirit but, above all else, I hope I have her strength and her faith.
I really do adore you, Grandma Rita.
Love always, Sara