This past week my Little Grandma passed away.
Even though she's gone I still continue to receive correspondence from her.
She had just turned 80 in February. You're only as young as you feel inside though. When she turned 80 my family had a big birthday party for her, just like they did when she turned 70 and 75.
I didn't get to go. I had planned on it, but it was the night before we were going to Disneyland and Alana threw up. Once your kid pukes, you usually cancel all plans immediately following, so as not to be vomited on in public.
I had guilt at the time for not going to her party. If the roles were reversed she would've come to any party for me. But with time that guilt faded. A little. Till yesterday.
While going through my grandma's stuff my mom found a card that she had for me. My birthday is only a few days after her's, so she had gotten me a birthday card. She couldn't drive herself around anymore and she had an oxygen tank that went with her everywhere, yet she had taken the time to pick out a card for me and take it with her to her birthday party because she thought she would see me there. Then I didn't show up.
Now I have this card that she picked out for me and bought and signed, and she didn't even get to give it to me in person. The card is pink and talks about how granddaughters are a blessing and she signed it Love, Little Grandma. In her time tested cursive handwriting. That is the last card I will ever get from her. No more birthdays, no more Christmas cards. Nothing. And she didn't even get to give it to me.
Now I am in the running for worst granddaughter ever. Its a close race, but I think I'm at the top of the lineup. Because I didn't go to my grandma's birthday party, to get a card that she picked out for me especially because she remembered my birthday.
I'll take my award now please. Unless I have to show up for some ceremony or something. Cause I probably won't be able to make it. Sorry Little Grandma.