It’s taken me a while to be able to write this.

Last month, my grandmother passed away unexpectedly.

She was an incredible woman who lived life on exactly her terms.  She always referred to your posterior as your fanny, was active in her church, put me on her prayer list for being Pagan but loved me anyway, made us kids eat things we didn’t like but were good for us and then gave us homemade applesauce (with red hots) afterwards, kept a Grandparent’s Day card my siblings and I gave her twenty years ago, made play-dough from scratch, once washed my mouth out with Ivory soap (tastes terrible), and taught me to crochet when I was just four or five.

It’s been more than a month, and I still don’t think I’ve really dealt with this.

In the short term, my coping mechanism has been to keep busy.  After all, it’s pretty hard to weep while you’re counting stitches.  Grandma’s favourite flower (and coincidentally March’s flower) was the daffodil.  When we weren’t able to get daffodils for her memorial service, I decided to make some using the skills she shared with me almost thirty years ago.  I wore these to the memorial in thanks to my grandmother, Leslie Jane, for all that she taught me.  I’ll miss you, Grandma.

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