Avoidance isn't always possible...

Here goes, my grandma's surgery was not good at all. They not only found that the cancer has gone through the wall of her colon but is also in several other areas of her body including her liver. So, that is that! THE BAD NEWS!!! So, the doctors really have not visited with the family regarding the prognosis of this as my grandma has been too weak every time they have come by. Hopefully, she will be out of the hospital towards the beginning of next week and back in her own bed.

I find comfort in the fact that she has lived a good life and we have shared an amazing love. I honestly think that I know more about her and *her ways* than I do any other person on earth. I have no regrets regarding our relationship or our time together, no questions unasked (of course I reserve the right to amend that later.) I am at peace with everything but still so incredibly sad at the same time (is that possible?)

I have so many memories of her that will stay with me forever and hopefully that I will pass on.

For example, I am right handed; however, I cut my steak and any meat on my plate with my left hand because she stood over me to teach me that way when I was a little girl. As you can guess, she was left handed. When I eat a meal I prefer my drink to be grasped with my left hand for the same reason. Also, when eating with boring people I look around the restaurant for things to include in an "I Spy" game because that is what we played during lunch at her house. I cut vegetables such as okra and squash with a paring knife aimed toward my thumb just like she did on the front porch (my mom hates this dangerous habit.)

My first memory of sewing (which is one of my favorite past times) is of her and I making a clothes pin holder that we used to hang the freshly washed clothes on the line outside. When I see vegetables I sometimes think of picking them out of the garden from her backyard which I not only had to help pick but plant each summer. Or I think of canning them, I always thought that was both gross and boring and I guess I still do. I remember the smell of honeysuckle on the fence and eating chives fresh out of her yard. And of course losing my first tooth in an apple as I was walking down the side of her house.

I remember going to her sister's house to pick corn for a full day only then to shuck, clean and bag it. How her and my grandpa laughed at me when I would freak out from seeing dead black birds. Of vacations to places with just her and my grandpa and that white bear that sat in their windshield for many years. Of Sulphur, trips to see Aunt Sis and Uncle Thelbert, and visits with the Smith clan. Going to her mother's (my great grandma) for fireworks every forth of July and the eating homemade ice cream (maybe that is when the addiction started.)

I think of my love to read (I average a book a week) and walking to the book-mobile with her during hot days in the summer. I ALWAYS got a Curious George book and we took the short cuts through the ally and she never missed an opportunity to point out an animal or creature along the way. I remember her teaching my Sunday school class and helping her punch out holes or organize handouts of the curriculum on a Saturday night before the next day. Puzzles at any time of the day and card games as long as you would play her. Laying my head on her lap during church or digging through her purse on Sunday mornings for a mint or surprise.

Of the comfort of staying over on a Sat night with her and my grandpa. There was nothing like taking an early bath and then relaxing with them on the couch for a TV movie. She forced (or highly recommended) me to eat breakfast even though I did not want it, mixing my peanut butter with jelly in a bowl BEFORE putting it on my bread, and of course putting baking soda in my bath each afternoon after playing in the grass to ease my allergy. I remember her letting me soap her back and then she would guess what letter or number I wrote with my hand on her back.

When I lived with her in college my grandma and I used to buy the Christmas presents for all of my little cousins and then bring them home, put them together and play with them. If they did not pass the *FUN* test, they were returned. I can see the love on her face every time she saw a grandchild or see the excitement in her eyes one Christmas when she opened the simple gift of a back scratcher or the joy when Ryan and I gave her the clock (like Debs she wanted) last Christmas.

I remember going with my grandma to get her false teeth (I must have been only four or five) and I remember when she got a new set later in life and we joked with her that they looked like a beaver. Of my brother calling her grandma Roley Polly (I have no idea why other than we use to play with them in her backyard when we were kids.) Along the way, me picking up calling her Graham Cracker (still uncertain why I do this) but her laughing at it each time she answered the phone and I said it. How she loved the way I address all my envelopes; she always likes the just the HARP in the upper left corner followed my a generic address (anything other than her real name which she hates since both the first and the middle are spelled against the norm.)

I remember writing my grandma a letter at least once a week for the entire year after my grandpa died and how happy this made her. I remember spending the entire day one day reading the title to her house and who had owned it over the 100 years. I remember sitting in her living room with flowers covering every surface of the place making arrangements for my grandpa's grave. Or how excited she was when I organized her entire life of photos.

I remember my grandma practicing playing jacks for an entire week before her Sister's visit to Oklahoma in the 80's. I then recall the joy on her face while playing. Of making the Easter cake with the dyed coconut for grass (I made one last year for Ryan's family) and of making German chocolate cake for my grandpa's b-day each year (Christmas Day) although her pecan pies at Thanksgiving were my favorite. Standing on the porch and waving constantly until I was completely out of site.

I remember cleaning and cleaning and cleaning and cleaning when I stayed with her in the summers. Maybe that is where I get it. Random places I did not dust could attack; the bottom vent of refrigerators, the walls that must be swept, etc. Of her trying to get a rubber band around my thick hair as a child and the favorite brush she used. Luckily, she gave it to me a few years back, it is a prized possession.

Every time I go to the Greek h0use in Norman the old woman who owns it with her husband asks if I am in town to visit grandma.

I could go on and on forever. The simple fact is there are so many things I know about her and her life that I am okay with her being sick; I just don't want her to spend any days that she has to in pain. My comfort in the knowledge of little things has only increased the need I feel for Ryan to get to know more about his grandparents. Unfortunately, with his parents divorce, he was shuttled between two parents home and lost the quality time with his grands. He agrees and we continue his journey this Christmas. For anyone that has met or seen the photos of his grandparents, you know this is one fun journey, they are amazing.

On another note, Andrea is doing well. She posted her wedding photo on the blog today and just a side note...the girl is way more beautiful on the inside than her gorgeous self on the outside.