This is one of my favorite photos of my Grandma Josie... It is how I will always remember her. Dressed in one of her colorful sweaters, hair done up just right, and cute earrings that accessorized her every outfit. Growing up through my youth, I knew no family party was complete without her, always arriving with Mimi and Pap Thompson and taking her spot in my mom's dining room, always the chair just to the left of the head of the table. And in recent years, a few pillows behind her.
From the time I was a young child, I always knew she'd have a hug for me when she walked through mom's front door. I remember the feeling of standing on my tippy toes, arms outstretched so I could reach her. Out of all my grandparents, she was the one whose height I reached first. Then, as the years went by, it was I who leaned over more and more, to wrap my arms around her. And she always, always, hugged back. The sound of her voice, "Stefanie! How are the kids? How are you? How's New York?" This was how every conversation began. She was so sweet to Manny. So sweet to me. So sweet to Gabriel and Anna.
Grandma Josie sent me birthday cards every year. I'll never lose sight of her handwriting, "Love, Grandma." I think she sent me $5 until I turned 25. That $5 bill always made me smile.
My Christmas will never be the same. She won't sit in her favorite chair at mom's dining room table, and there will be no pillows propping her back up. I can expect this year that no one will take her seat, that it will stay there, and we will all know she is so much happier where she rests, now. And I can't help but have the sense that she will be there, checking on all of us, and cracking a quick-witted joke or laughing at how goofy our conversations can be. Every time I see a sweet potato, I can't help but think of Grandma Josie and if it is a yam, or, a sweet potato. One Thanksgiving dinner we actually spent a good half hour debating: Sweet Potato or Yam?
I recall the last time we spoke, the last time she went into the hospital.
She picked up the phone, "HELLO?"
"Grandma! Hi! It's Stefanie!"
"WHO? Speak Up!"
"STEFANIE!"
"STEFANIE! Calling all the way from New York!"
And before she talked to me, she told her nurse, "It's my great granddaughter! Calling all the way from New York!"
Our conversation was short, mostly because she told me she had a hard time hearing, I was probably busy anyway, and thanks for calling. She always made me laugh. We said our "I love you"'s and hung up. I told my mom, "I don't know why, but I have a feeling I'll be back home before our planned trip in July." And a few days later, I was.
It was a trip I wasn't sure if I should or could make, with life's busy work I had a lot to figure out to make it happen. But everything seemed to fall into place, and I flew home Sunday night. I spent Monday at the funeral home, with family and friends at the viewings, and saw relatives and family friends I hadn't seen in what felt like forever, some even since I was in 7th grade. On Tuesday, there was a beautiful service, with wonderful words spoken about who Josie Thompson was, and the many great memories we each had of her were at the forefront of our minds.
It was good to be back home, to sleep in the old bedroom, to spend time with my brother and sister who have become their own persons, to exercise with my mom, run a few errands, share a quick drink with dad on the front porch, to pray... Even though I had to leave home late Tuesday night to get back to my own family in my new city, home hasn't left me. It's in my mind and my heart, and it envelopes my senses when I think about it. I think even Gabe has a certain sense of where his mama's home is. Just the other morning, it was sunny, warm, the trees were blossoming, and spring was in the air. We stepped out of the apartment and he said, "It smells like Ohio today!" I couldn't help but laugh, and say he was right.
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