Doris Grace

My grandma died today. She was 92 and had a wonderful life - 6 brothers and 2 sisters, 8 sisters and brothers in-law, nearly 70 people who called her "Annie Doris" (Auntie), 2 children, 3 husbands, 4 grand kids and 4 great-grandchildren. Many, many close friends that lived here and in Arizona. All these folks loved her dearly - I bet every single on of them played a game of cards with her at one point or another. Some called her Mom, I heard her brother's call her Dottie and Dorie, I called her Gram.

Though she has all of this family, she was also special because nearly everyone in the entire town of Raymond knew her and loved her as their nurse. That's almost 5 thousand people!! I was lucky enough to spend time in the clinic where she worked. I stayed with her during the summers and when I was only 7 she had me working in the clinic's lab counting things under the microscope with the lab tech Doots.

Everywhere we went in that town people knew her and loved her. Even in farther away towns like Long Beach, and South Bend she knew everyone and had been present at the birth of many people walking around towns in Pacific County including Long Beach's famous Stormin' Normin.

She also used to take me to nursing homes to visit people. I swear there was ALWAYS someone at the nursing home that she was taking care of and visiting. That is what she did. I didn't like it so much but I sure did learn that it was the right thing to do. Everyone always lit up at the site of her and I'm sure I was entertaining. I was so proud that she was proud of me.

I guess because I had a unique perspective as the granddaughter and mostly because of the kind of person she was, I literally never knew her to do anything bad or mean or wrong. You gotta know how lucky you are when you run across people like that because it is rare and I think I knew it all along. I used to choose her when I was asked to write about a Hero when I was in grade school. She took care of everyone and loved every minute of it.

She used to take my brother and me out on the road in her RV during the summers from park to park and everywhere we went people were glad to see her. Every kid should get to do that. When we asked "are we there yet" she always said "prudanear"

She never saw a recipe and didn't cut it out. She really loved to cook and used knives that were old and thin from years of sharpening. They were really really sharp. She used to roll up her sleeves and use her hands to mix things and told me that was the best way. That's how I do it now. She also made me watch her cut off the head of a chicken at Mary's farm. She wanted me to see it run around with it's head cut off cause she always said that expression and I didn't believe it. It was kinda funny.

She did every kind of craft imaginable. She made me a three tiered dress when I was four and let me pick out the material. It was red and blue with Lions all over it. I loved that dress. She also made a few hundred scrubbies out of netting. They were everywhere and still pop up from time to time in unexpected places. She probably made everything you can make: clothes, rugs, quilts, pillows, washcloths, lamps, necklaces out of bandannas, beads and little cotton balls, she loved those. And little holders for little things - a bunch of crazy stuff that they used to make in Arizona.

I would hate to disappoint her. "You little stinker" she would say. I do know that she loved me more than anyone possibly could. That kind of unconditional love that Grandmas have and she adored me too. I know that there are many people that she felt this way about but I never felt more special in my life that when I was her granddaughter. "Bless your heart" she used to say.

When I was old enough to drive, I used to borrow my Mom's or Dad's car and drive down to visit her in rain soaked Raymond. Winding down the forest roads I would travel back into myself. It replenished my soul. I loved being with her and her friends. We played cards and ate ham and potato salad. It was warm and cozy and I would fall asleep in her big bead with the bedspread she made. I loved looking through her closets and finding old treasures. It was home.

All my life she loved to tell me that she never cried harder than she did on her way home from visiting my me and my parents just after I was born. She didn't want to leave to go back to work.

Yesterday, I spent time with her and I could tell she was present. I said "it's me Gram, Molly" and she said "I know, you are my sweetheart." I told her that all of her brothers and sisters await her in heaven. I told her that Lena, and Grace and Gert and all her friends are there too. I know she believed that they were.

I guess we cry when someone dies because we miss them. I think we also cry because we know that their life and that relationship is part of what defines us and we lose a piece of ourselves. I have never had a life without a grandma but I'm nobodies granddaughter anymore.

I always knew this day would come and nothing could make me cry like the thought of losing my Gram. She was my hero. Yesterday, when I said "I love you, Gram". She said what she always said: "and I SURE love you"