Everyone has that one person in their family that is unlike any other. For me, it’s my Grandma. My Dad’s mom, that is. She’s always had a very special place in my heart. When I was younger, we’d go to her house (she lived just a few blocks away when I was living in Warren) and just goof around for hours. My parents hated it, I think, because she let us get away with lots. I remember sitting on her kitchen counter, going through the spice cabinet, and mixing everything together. She’d just watch me and laugh.

We’d go to her house on holidays and she’d cook the biggest dinners, with extra rolls/bread for me, since she knew I liked it. Then we’d sit on her couch for hours and goof around. The house was always the same way. No furniture ever moved, nothing was ever repainted, nothing was ever new. I liked it that way. I could go there right now and find my way around just as well as I could ten years ago. She said that everyone keeps trying to get her to rearrange things, but she doesn’t want to. I wouldn’t want to, either.

We’ve been talking a bit on the phone since I moved back up here with Matt. She says she likes talking to me, because I’m the only person who “gets” her now that her son, my Uncle Jimmy, has passed on. She misses him like crazy. She says she’s pretty depressed now, and she’s been going to therapy. I wish I could be there to spend time with her, but it’s good that calling her cheers her up.

I called her on Mother’s Day. She said that it made her day. Her sons and daughters stopped by (all 6 of them), but they are all so busy and running around that they didn’t get to stay around for long. She said that she was so glad to hear from me. We talked for about 45 minutes.

During the 45-minute conversation, in true Grandma fashion, she didn’t question the life that I’m living once. She’s the only person that I talk to that doesn’t ever question me. She tells me all the time how smart I am and how much she loves talking to me, and she’ll tell me five times in a conversation that I’m funny. I say something about “ugh, I’ve eaten too much today” and she says, “Ah, that’s okay, I have too. We can be pigs together.”

I think that in a world where I feel very misunderstood, she’s one of the few that truly “gets” me.