Question #2: what was the most significant event in your childhood?
Again, not mentioning the "d" word, though that was pretty fireplacing significant. But it was so significant and happened so early that there's no way I can cover it here. My whole life would be different. I'd have half the family I do now. I can't even imagine it.
Instead, I'm going to talk about Grandma Sylvia. Did I ever tell you about my Grandma Sylvia? My step-mother's mother (I wouldn't have known her if not for the "d" word!)
She had beautiful long silver hair that she kept up in a bun. She taught me to play "The Bear Went Over the Mountain" on her piano. She baked the most wonderful chocolate cakes. She taught me to braid hair and let me do hers. I loved staying with her in her little house in New Jersey. I would eat windmill cookies and drink weak tea in her kitchen. My cousin and I would white wash her basement (such fun!). I would cozy up in her recliner. She was so playful and charming and fun to be with.
One weekend...near my birthday...she and I were staying at her sister's (Aunt SoLittleAndCute) apartment as a special birthday treat. I went next door to the neighbor's apartment to practice the piano. When I came back, Grandma Sylvia was sitting stiffly on the couch. Unconscious. Aunt SoLittleAndCute had just finished calling the ambulance. Grandma had had a stroke. A neighbor came and sat with me while Aunt SoLittleAndCute went to the hospital with Grandma. I remember spending some time in the waiting room with my step-mother (Grandma was her mother) and my father. I never saw my grandma again. She died a few days later. It was the first time I'd ever seen someone so close to death. The first time death really touched me, though my grandma Hilda (of the bosoms) and my Grandpa Jack (step-mother's father) both had died a few years before I wasn't as close to them and, also, I was younger and didn't really get it. For years my memory was that she had died that day, that very day, it was only later that I really remembered that she hadn't.
I still miss her.
Through My Glasses, Dorkily
3 years ago