For most of my life now (that kinda makes me feel old), the days leading up to my birthday have been marked with sadness. It was 11 years ago today that my grandma was killed in a car accident. On Sunday, it will be 21 years since my grandpa (her husband) died in his sleep.
I wrote about this last year. I still miss them very much. We were talking at Christmas about what assholes my mom's parents are and it just seems so unfair that my dad's parents, who were so great and loved us so much, are the ones we had to lose. But my mom's parents, who have treated us like red-headed stepchildren and who have told my mom and one of her sisters that they never really liked them, those grandparents are hanging around. But life is unfair and shit, right?
It's weird, the things that remind me of my grandma, especially. I stopped by the World's Worst Wing Woman's place last week and when I was leaving, the smells in the hallway took me back to my grandma's kitchen. I could see potatoes boiling away in one of her copper-bottom pots on the stove, and I could smell the roast in the oven. I live in a tan, stucco house -- the same color as the house my grandparents lived in when they moved to town from the home place. That similarity is always in the back of my mind when I come home. When I head down to the basement to do my laundry, I swear, the basement smells exactly the same as my grandparents' basement did. I notice it every time I go down there.
Like I do every year, I'll drink to my Grandma's memory tonight and eat dinner off of the one plate I have left from the set that was given to me when the family was going through all of her stuff. The rest of the set was a casualty of the break up with The Cheating Asshole. I should have gotten them back, but God, I just wanted to be done with him.
Last year, I tried to recreate my grandma's lemon-glazed angel food cake, but the glaze didn't turn out quite right. I think it was because I used real lemon juice and my grandma almost assuredly used the fake Real Lemon juice. Lucky for me, my mom is apparently making me an angel food cake for my birthday and I'll be getting it on Saturday. So, I think I shall try once again to recreate her cake on Sunday. And I'll read the story one of our old farmhands wrote about my grandpa in this book. It's probably all very silly to do, but it makes me feel better. So I do it.
Cyril and Dorothy, I miss you.