95 years is a lot of living
My grandma turns 95 tomorrow. Her vocabulary is pretty limited now, since she had a stroke a few years ago. It's hard to tell how much she knows and how much she cares anymore. I don't think of her as often as I should; it's hard to do from far away when communication can really only go one way. That's an excuse, I know. I've only been around for about a quarter of her life, but here are some things I remember.

When I was little, she used to give me a back rub before I went to sleep. I remember being in the dark, grandma's chilly wrinkled hands dancing on my skin. I remember the pocket flashlight that was by the phone, the phone with its own archway. I remember the night lights and the way grandma's house could never be scary. I remember when she used to holler "shut the door" when my sister and I barged in or out or both.

At Christmas time, Grandma and Grandpa would always show up in an Oldsmobile brimming with already-wrapped gifts. There was nothing like unpacking that car. One year when they gave me stilts, I was completely convinced that it was lumber for my dad and only said "David" on the tag to throw him off the track.

My grandma was usually older than my friends' grandmas, but that didn't stop her from much. She was untouchable at those amusement park guess-your-age games. Within 3 years? Those guessers were lucky to be within 30.

We used to have the best doughnuts for breakfast and Braunschweiger for lunch. For dessert, nobody, probably not even the grocery store, had more cookie choices.

Grandma loved a good game of Uno with the grandkids, but her game was really Bridge. I never played Bridge with her. I wish I had.

Right after she moved closer to my parents when she could no longer handle a house, I remember spending the night in the empty house. Everything grandma was still in place, but she was so obviously gone. There weren't even cookies.

I did find some love letters. I sat on the carpeted stairs and I read how much my grandpa missed grandma. They were hundreds of miles apart for several more months. He didn't know that they'd soon be together for more than 60 years.

I can't go on
I'm frustrated at how fuzzy the memories are.
I'm disappointed in myself that I don't think about her more.
I hope her birthday is happy.
I'm looking forward to seeing her during Christmas.