Weep Not For the Memories

I've decided to make a seperate, personal blog where I can recount my memories of my father and of other people in my life. This'll be a special place for those precious recolations.

Friday, November 25, 2005

My Grandma

November 25th, 1988. The day I lost my maternal grandmother.

Ruth Meihm is the woman I think of as "Grandma", my father's mother died when I was 20 months old, so I don't remember her. But I do remember my mother's mother, my grandma.

She baby-sat me several times a week after school and I saw her most weekends as well, after all she only lived a block away from me. Because of that, we had a pretty close relationship and I adored my Grandma.

I remember helping her bake when I was a little girl. I love to bake and that's something I got from my grandmother (both of them actually) and it was something Grandma and I shared, one of those precious memories.

Every year on this date, I think about her, of course. So many years have passed, but the memories are still pretty clear and I still miss her. Not the way I miss my dad, she's been gone so many years and I was so young when she died that it can't be the same, but I still miss her a lot.

After all, she was my Grandma.

Turkey Day

Yesterday was American Thanksgiving. Turkey Day, my father always called it.

You see, despite us being Canadien, we always celebrated the American Holiday. Maybe, because it was a private family thing. THere was no extended family, just the three of us and whoever else we chose to invite.

Daddy'd take the day off work to watch football and I'd get to skip school. Mama would make a roast chicken and stuffing and all kinds of extras and we'd pick out on snack foods, anyway. I'd watch the parade with Daddy and a little bit of his football game.

It was one of my favourite times of the year. Just a special 'us' day and of course, yesterday I was thinking about him. As fate had it, I was in Castleton and my mom didn't have to work, so we spent it together. We even spot a roast chicken from the grocery store, it wasn't the same, but it was good.

I like the ideas of our old traditions going on without him, makes me miss him just a little less. THat way it feels as if he's still with us, sort of. We're still doing things he loved, things we used to do with him. It makes it better.

It's not the same, but it's enough.