To Grandma Ruthie

As some of you know, my wonderful, universally beloved, Grandma Ruthie passed away a few days ago at the monumental age of 100. She was an amazing woman full of laughter, love, and positivity that could turn even the most dour day around. She lived an incredible life, she traveled the world and raised three wonderful kids, about a thousand grand kids, and about a million great-grandkids. By the end of her life, she was ready to go. She’d seen all she would see and done all she would do and she was at peace with that. While this was somewhat sad, it also gave us the chance to say the things you want to say to someone before they turn out the lights and close up the shop. But, there’s always more to say to someone who has made such a colossal impact on your life, so here goes:

Grandma Ruthie, by the time I was born you were the only grandparent left in my family. Your husband, and my namesake, Grandpa Bill had passed away a few years before I showed up and my mom’s parents left us a while before that. But, you were enough… you were more than enough. Some of my earliest memories are sitting on the kitchen counter watching you bake cookies and begging to eat some of the batter (maybe that’s my earliest memory because you let me fall down the stairs before that, but hey, we all zone out sometimes). Those chocolate chip cookies were just a part of your legend…albeit the most delicious part.

Even though you had countless other grandkids, you always made sure you were there for my birthday or Grandparents Day at grade school. Sure, I was jealous of the kids who brought two, three, or even four grandparents (I mean FOUR?! How selfish can you be?) but in the end it didn’t matter, because I had the best one, Grandma Ruthie.

Despite your seemingly endless energy, time takes its toll on everyone and eventually, you stopped traveling to visit us, but that was fine, it was our turn to make the trips. Then Covid hit and I wondered whether I’d ever get to see you again…but you toughed it out, through broken bones, sickness, and the passing of some of your closest friends, you toughed it out. The next time I saw you, though, you were so much smaller than I remembered and your permanently dyed hair had finally gone white. The Grandma I remembered from all those years was still there, just in smaller doses, with more resting in between.

The last time I saw you was for your 100^th birthday, and what a party it was. It felt like the entire state of Wisconsin came to salute the queen. You were happy and energetic and the Grandma I remembered for that entire weekend. I know it was hard to do at a hundred but it’s a trip I’ll never forget. Looking at the last photo we have together on the night I left, you were so small, barely coming up to my chest, almost a perfect inverse of those days when I’d sit on the counter and beg for a spoonful of cookie dough.

You were the only grandparent I ever had and more than I ever could have asked for. You lived a life that we could all stand to emulate. You were loved by your family, your friends, and anyone who had the good fortune to cross paths with you. I’ll miss you forever Grandma but I’ll never forget you. If you haven’t already, pour yourself a vodka gimlet in her honor, or bake some chocolate chip cookies for someone you love.

Author’s note:

I’ve been writing these essays for more than three years now, never missing a single week. I’ve written more than 160 of them, and I haven’t asked for much in return but it would mean a lot to me if you would share this essay in any way you can. I have a hard time asking for help but my readership is starting to shrink for the first time. It costs you nothing to like an essay, leave a comment, or pass it along through social media or just to a friend. If you’ve gotten this far, it means you’re one of the good ones and I really appreciate your continued patronage on this journey of mine. Hug your grandparents if they’re still around or tell them you love them because wherever they are, I know they’d love to hear it.