My much-adored grandmother died yesterday. The world lost a classy, adventurous woman.
Her death came as a massive surprise, as she was one of the most healthy and spunky 81-year-olds I’ve ever met. I won’t get into the details of how she passed away here — honestly, I’m still in a bit of shock — but I’m grateful I got to see her the day before she died. She lived in Colorado, but was in Meridian for the week to come to my baby shower.
My mom always told me that both she and I inherited our obstinance from Grandma. I also think I got my love of politics from her. During my crazy college days when I went to DC and Spokane for protests, she told me she was proud of me while grilling me on my opinions to make sure I could back them up and defend them. We would chat after presidential debates, and we didn’t always agree, but they were great discussions.
At one point during the 2012 election season, my grandma confided in my mom she was afraid that after everything we’d discussed, I’d still vote for the candidate she didn’t like. Yesterday, after my mom and I were done speaking to the police and started the long drive home, it occurred to me that if there is an afterlife, grandma now knows I did, in fact, vote for that guy. (And so did my mom.)
I apologized out loud, then defended my choice — just like I would have done on the phone.