The scent of a memory

Even over the smell of the food, I smelled him as he walked in the door. You don't think you will ever forget the smell of a man once they are gone forever, but sadly one day you do. Until it walks into a restaurant and gets in line behind you. I breathed deeply twice. I bit my lip to stop the tears, as I turned around to see who it was that smelled like that.

He was probably about 70 years old. Little bit shrunken, like older people get. Nice looking guy, glasses, old guy cap on his head. But that smell, he smelled just like my grandpa. I just smiled at him and turned back around. The baby cooed at him once, possibly waved, as it is his favorite thing to do. I am pretty sure he said something to Harrison, but I couldn't tell you what.

I wish I could have asked him what cologne he used. Wouldn't have mattered though, as I know it was a combination of things. His Cologne, Zest soap, Listerine, Certs breath mints. Grandpa; he smelled like grandpa.


************

Where are we going this week, he'd ask me. Where do you think silly, I'd say. Let me guess? How about Paulie's, you know Paul would love to see you? No grandpa, no Mexican food, Hamburger Hamlet. Oh how could I have not known that, he'd say, sighing.

Every other Tuesday night for two years, that was my dinner choice. Every time, we had the same conversation. Their hamburgers and fries were to die for, their shakes couldn't be beat; but best yet, they let you draw on the table. At five years old, there is nothing better than drawing on the table while on a date with your grandpa.

You know, Melissa Annie, he'd say; one day you are going to want to go to a real restaurant and then I will be the one wanting to draw on the table and we always have to come here.

Grandpa, even when I am eighty-ninety-two years old, I will always want to come here.

************

I was six, maybe seven the first time I got fresh with him. You better watch it girl, or I will snatch you bald headed. He growled a bit as he said it. I apologized instantly and he was fine after that.

What that exactly meant, I never knew. But he said it too all of the grandchildren when they got smart mouthed or said or did something rude. What I did know was I didn't want to know what it meant.

I heard someone else say that their grandfather used to say that. Not sure where I was, nor who said it, but it didn't bother me. I bet their grandfather didn't growl when he said it.

*************

At ten, he taught me how to shift the gears in his car when he was driving. As I got better at it, he'd say every time I got into his car, you shifting or am I? Well that was a silly question to ask a ten year old. I always shifted. He'd tell me when and I got to where I could do it without even looking.

At twelve, he took me into a school parking lot on a Sunday and let me have my first attempt at driving. You tell your dad about this and I'll snatch you bald headed, he'd say.

Grandpa if I told dad about this, he'd make you stop. I want to drive, this is between you and me.

Not many twelve year old children can say they know how to drive a stick shift.

************

In the summer, when I was fourteen, I ran away from home. I tried to go to Mexico with some friends. We had parental issues, or so we thought in the moment. Everything would be better in Mexico. At the border, they made us call someone to come and get us and I called grandpa. He drove the two and a half hours to get us. Let us have it too, how dumb we were, how badly it could have ended, how disappointed he was in me. That last one hurt the most.

He told us all that you can't run away from small problems and you shouldn't run away from the big ones. Told us our secret was safe with him this time, but next time he'd not be so nice. I never forgot his disappointment that day.

**********

At sixteen, I made an off handed comment about the AC not working great in my bedroom. I came home the next day from school and he was installing a ceiling fan in my bedroom. My mom just shook her head at me and said, I wish I had someone who would drop everything for me like this.

*********

From him, I get my love of good red wine, fresh seafood and great salsa; the joy of storytelling, reading a good book, the love of movies and the ability to cut a person down with my words. That last one, he could have kept.

**********

He told me stories about flying in the Korean war. He told me about growing up with his brother Paul, how Paul never matured past the age of three, even though he lived to be twenty-seven. He told me about the mistakes he made in parenting when my dad and his siblings were kids. He told me about working as a radio guy back in the early sixties. Told me about his granddad, who took them (his daughter and grandchildren: my grandpa and his baby brother Paul who were six and one at the time) and escaped Poland right before it was invaded by the Germans. He told me how much I reminded him of his mom; my great-grandma Annie.

************

The best compliment I ever got in my life was from him. I can't share it, it's too sentimental, but I never forgot it and I never will.

***********

He was a grouchy old guy, but he always had time for me. When email was new, he and I both had an email account. I used to get emails that had "Yippee, Squeee, Happy" as the subject. That was how much he loved email. It was a joyous event for him each time.

***********

He's a grouchy, pain in the ass curmudgeon and I'm never speaking to him again, I said to my dad on the phone. I was 18 years old and had just had the worst lunch date in my life with Grandpa. I'd told him that Logan and I were getting married and he spent the next half hour telling me how I shouldn't do that, I'd forever regret it; before I finally got up and left the restaurant.

I called him an old fool as I left and told him he was not welcome at my wedding. And Daddy, I mean it, he's not welcome. I was seething as I said this to my dad.

Oh you don't mean that, honey. You are angry, you have every right to be angry, but you have to see his side of view.

No, I can't. He's wrong about me and he's wrong about Logan. I am not mom, Logan is not you. We won't wake up and regret this one day. If I'm wrong and we do, then whatever.

I know that and you know that, but grandpa doesn't. Time will change things. Don't worry about it Melissa, he'll come around.

I am not rushing into this. I love this man, he is my soul mate.

I know. I support you in this and one day your grandfather will too. Just remember you are his first grandchild and the only granddaughter. (At the time this was true, although two years later, my Aunt and Uncle gave him is sixth grandchild, the second granddaughter.) To him, you are like his child. One that he did right by. One that he didn't make the mistakes with that he made with us.

Dad, you are my father, not him.

Dad just sighed and tried to calm me down. He swore it'd go away, that in a few days I'd forget it.

I never did though. The things he said and the things I said changed our relationship from that day forward. He didn't know me like I thought he did, if he'd say those things to me. I always loved him, but our relationship was never the same. I never really let him know me again.

************

Then came the call. July 2003. Grandpa's been in an accident, my brother said. In those words my heart stopped for an instant. He was coming home from Aunt K's and he got hit by a semi-truck. He's in the middle of nowhere Oregon. Dad is on his way up there now.

The semi didn't kill him. He got so lucky that day. A few broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and some bruising from the seat belt. But the scans they did of his abdomen looked off. They thought they saw something in his liver. The doc told him to go home and have his primary care physician do an MRI.

He put it off, going in. He never liked doctors. Didn't like enclosed spaces, since he'd been hidden in a trunk off and on for days as a child, when they escaped from Poland. Eventually my dad made him go see the doc. Mid-August maybe.

Stage four. Colon cancer. By the time they find colon cancer, it has generally spread to all of your organs. It was in his liver, his pancreas, his lungs. Nothing they could do except send him home with a script for pain meds and the number for hospice. Three to six months if you are lucky.

**********

October 20th was the last time I talked to him. He was doing okay, better than expected. He still got up and left the house every day. Still went to my uncles shop and gave everyone hell. Still went to his favorite restaurants and flirted with the waitresses.

We all had plans for Sunday brunch. We'd started doing it again every week, just like when I was a small kid, since his diagnosis.

Out of the blue, my phone rings. For a second I didn't realize it was him. The cancer had gotten into his stomach, so he had stomach acid that was damaging his vocal cords and his esophagus. His voice was changed, a strangers voice.

I am so proud of you, of the woman you've become, he said. I want you to always know that. To remember this forever, that I've always loved you. That I've been proud of you since the second you were born. I need you to know that I'm sorry for doubting your and Logan's love.

I know grandpa, I told him. it's okay. You don't have to do this now. I will see you in three days. We can talk then.

I was busy with Morgan in that moment. Trying to get her to stop climbing the walls, to take a nap, something. The day to day stuff with a 22 moth old child.

No Melissa he said, you never know how much time is left. I may be unable to talk by Sunday. I want you to know this now, just in case. I need you to know that I love you and I love Logan and I adore that spitfire of a girl you gave me as a great-grandchild.

Okay then. Well I love you too grandpa I said. I've been proud to be your granddaughter my entire life. And Grandpa, I'm sorry too. I was a young fool. Not about marrying Logan, but in thinking that your opinion didn't matter. In not listening and explaining and instead going all defensive.

I love you baby girl, was the last thing he said.

*******

The next day my uncle found him on the floor of his apartment, unconscious. He never again gained consciousness. The last nine days of his life were spent on a vent in the ICU at UCLA Medical Center. He passed away October 30, 2003.

********

I remember all of this and a million other things while eating my dinner. Who knew one smell could bring it all back? The sadness has passed in some ways. Five and a half years does that too you. You are supposed to lose your grandparents, it is the natural progression of life. Doesn't make it easy when it happens, but you know it is going to happen. He was my first. I've lost the other three since then. The sadness of the two I lost last year is too fresh. When I think of them, I only remember the end.

But with him, I remember the laughs. The dates. The movie marathons. The trip to Vegas in his RV, with my dad and brothers when I was five. Week trips to the Grand Canyon. Days spent looking at boats in the Marina, looking at animals at the zoo, exploring Grifith Park. The letters I have from my weeks spent at summer camp; letters full of jokes and stories about home. The man who taught me to tie a cherry string with my tongue at four years old. The curmudgeon who I respected and loved more than most people.

One smell and it all comes back. The smell of a memory.

Snippets

He crawls away from me, until he gets to the edge of the door which will lead him out of our kitchen and into the den. There he stops, turns around, looks at me and comes back to play with the Tupperware again. He hasn't found his baby wings yet. He hasn't realized that we are not one yet. I am still his person. At not yet eight months old, I am his world. He lights up when he sees me in the morning and cries when I walk out of the room without him.

This is the way it should be. Yes, he will get over his separation anxiety soon. Yes, he will one day leave the room I am in on purpose. But not yet. I will savor the time until then.

******************

Logan: Iss, I think we need to eat at home this week. He reaches for another hot wing from the container in the middle of the table.

Bailey: Daddy, we are eating and we are at home.

Logan: Did you coach her to say that?

Me: Nope, she got that one on her own. Babe, I'm doing the best I can. Dinner is still dinner, as long as we all eat together.

Logan: Pause. I never thought of it that way. So, okay, dinner at home, no restaurants this week. But I don't care where the food comes from. One week, lets just try it for one week, okay?

Me: That sounds like a plan.

******************

Morgan was as sick as a dog last week; food poisoning from some treat at the school. I've never seen her that sick in my life. Her long thin body, curled up on the bathroom floor in between retching. I sat with her, me and Harrison hanging with her on the floor until I finally decided to take her to Urgent care. I have been scared in my life; scared of many things. But nothing is scarier than watching your baby go as limp as a noodle from exhaustion and dehydration as you carry her too the car to take her to Urgent Care.

At 2am that next morning, she came into our room and said, mama I can't go to school today. I know bug, I do. But it's only 2am, I told her. Then I did something I rarely do, I pulled her into bed with us. She slept curled into me, nestled in between Logan and I for the rest of the night.

When I was in California, she slept with me two nights in a row. The two nights following my losing the baby. Those two nights, I felt guilty for, because she was there to comfort me. Now I know it works both ways. It's okay for her to be a comfort to me on occasion, just as it is for me to be that for her. That's what makes us family. Yes, she is seven years old, my first baby. But she is getting so big too. Big enough that we are starting to become friends in some way.

I want that, to be friends with my kids. Their mother first? Always. But friends too.

*******************

My Mom: So, Papa** and I are coming out mid-June. We're hoping to find a house to buy while we are there.

Me: Really? That soon?

Mom: Yeah. I've already started working on my book and he's pretty much finished with the practice. Jordan has a handle on it, he's been there for nearly two years. The practice runs itself these days. We're ready for the change. Ready for the new chapter in our lives.

Me: Mom, you know there is a house for sale down the block from us.

Mom: You'd want us to look at that? It wouldn't be too close?

Me: No, not at all. We'd love it.

Mom: Oh I'm so happy to hear that. Ok, well pull the phone number, so I can call on it, okay?

Me: I will call them for you.

Mom: You know it's funny, but so many people don't get to say that their grown daughter is one of their best friends.

Me: I know, that's just sad. God, I hope the girls and I are like that one day.

Mom: I know it will be like that for you.

**We call my step-dad, papa. Have since they got married when I was eight.

******************

Kate: Are you guys sending the girls to summer day camp?

Me: I don't know. Maybe? We go back and forth on it. Morgan wants too, but Bailey doesn't at all.

Kate: Yeah, Aidan doesn't want to either. If we send him, you know he'll fight me every single morning. It's almost not worth the trouble.

Me: Yeah, I know. I want the time with them, the freedom to sleep in. Ha. But the reality is, I don't know that I want to entertain them, or listen to them fight all day every day for the next 10 weeks.

Kate: Well what if we share the kids? Take turns on certain days? Split them up on certain days and then have a day a week where we all do something together? Then we can both say, have a day a week free and the rest will work itself out.

Me: That is awesome. I'm in for sure. Can I have Friday off?

Kate: I knew you'd ask me that.

Me: At least I'm consistent.

Kate: Um huh. Consistent, pain in the ass maybe.

*****************

I wake up late/early one night to the bed shaking. He's sobbing, all 6'4" curled up around a pillow, with his hand shoved in his mouth to be quiet. I comfort him and calm him down and then ask why he is so upset. I wanted that baby. I wanted that baby so bad that it hurts. I wanted you to never have to go through this again. I couldn't fix it and I wanted too. You needed time to grieve, I had to be the one to not fall apart.

Well now it's your turn I tell him. Babe, we will have another baby, I tell him.

I can't even tell you how much I wanted to have another baby, he says. That baby, our baby.

We will. That one wasn't meant to be. But there will be another try, another chance. If not through us, we'll adopt. We'll find our baby. The one that is meant to be in this family.

There will be another baby. I know it. I feel it. Not yet, I need time. But sooner than one might think, I'd bet.

*****************

It's a crazy life, it keeps me on my toes, but it's my life and I wouldn't give it up for anything.

Maybe ice cream is magical?

Last night I received a call from my BFF at 8:49pm ish. She told me that I needed ice cream and she would be there to get me shortly. Any attempts to tell I her I didn't need ice cream were met on deaf ears. She was coming, I was going to get in the car and that would be that. You don't argue with the woman. I mean you can, but it never works out well for you in the end. Only I would argue with her about not needing ice cream.

Anyway, when she picked me up, she asked me where I wanted ice cream from and I replied McDonalds, for a McFlurry and she promptly told me she didn't like that and we were going to go to Dairy Queen. At this point I have to tell you that with anyone else, I'd want to smack them, but this is part of why I love Kate so much. She is just like me in this way and normally we fight over who gets to be the most ridiculous in our demands. Last night, she won, because I really didn't care to begin with and I didn't have it in me to argue.

So we drive to the Dairy Queen, which happens to be a drive-thru and start to order our ice cream. Kate tries to explain to them what she wants, which is basically taking apart three different blizzards (two of which don't exist anymore) and making one of her own. She explains it to the woman three times, each time saying it a little different, because honestly the girl has no idea what she really wants. After trying to explain it for the forth time, the woman, through hysterical laughter asks us to just please pull forward.

Pull forwards? Because hai, we have no idea what you want and um we need to look at you while we try and figure it out. I had tears rolling down my face at this point, because I was laughing so hard. Pull forwards? I have never had a single person say that to me before. When we pulled up to the window the chick could barely keep a straight face as she asked Kate to explain it. To make matters worse when they got it figured out, I said, I'd like the same thing, but with the truffle pieces in it. (Because who in their right mind, doesn't want the truffle pieces?) Then of course, we knew one of ours, if not both would be wrong. But it didn't really matter, because it's ice cream, from Dairy Queen and we'd both eat it. And yes, mine was right, Kate's was wrong and that made us laugh even more. I could just hear them thinking, couldn't you people have gone and gotten a dam M&M McFlurry?

I laughed; we laughed, for a good twenty minutes. I laughed so hard that I had trouble eating my ice cream because my stomach and ribs hurt from laughing so hard. I laughed so hard that I had tears pouring down my face, in happiness for the first time in a long time. I laughed so hard that for an entire half hour, I forgot that a week ago, I was still pregnant. (Although it was a week ago last night, that I wasn't any more.) I laughed so hard, that I forgot I was sad and depressed; forgot that my children were spending the night elsewhere, just so I could be sad and not worry them; forgot that I wanted to be at home, in bed, with the covers over my eyes.

In that moment, that small window of time, I remembered that I am okay. That I will be okay, that I will soon feel like a whole human being. That my heart will heal, like it has before. That the cracks will always be there, but they will fade over time. Sometimes laughing at...er um, with your best friend is the best medicine in the world.

Last night I dreamt about ice cream. Today, I woke up not crying for the first time in a week. Do I feel better than yesterday? Yes. Do I feel good? No. But you have to take it where you can get it. Last night, laughing was the best thing I could have done.

I want to thank you all for your comments. I want to hug you all for your kind words. I may email everyone, but I am having trouble with that, so don't count on it. Just know, your words have helped me more than I could ever tell you. Your support means the world.

Not the mother I thought I'd be....

Eight years ago, Logan and I decided to stop using birth control and see what happened. We had grand ideas about being parents. We'd been married two years, we were both on our second to last year of college, we owned a condo and we were ready. Ready to be parents. Ready to change our lives forever and make a family. Really if you think about it, or well, if we think about it, it was an excuse to have lots of unprotected sex. Lots.

More than that though, I always knew I wanted to be a mother. From a very young age, I knew I wanted kids. We argued about how many we'd have, but we both knew we wanted kids.

I'm not exactly sure we thought it would happen so soon; the getting pregnant part. They say a year at the very least when you've been on the pill for a while. "They" are morons, whoever they are. I was pregnant within a month.

We planned and organized as we got ready for our baby. Our baby girl who we were so thrilled to be pregnant with. We painted our second bedroom, bought little onesies and sockies, baby proofed our entire condo and went through a name book, name by name. We dreamed big dreams. For her and for us. For our family, the little family we were creating. Huge dreams about what she'd be like. I don't think this is so out there, I bet there are tons of first time mothers who dream about what their children will be like. We hope for the best and pray for the amazing. We envision perfect lives for them. Lives without fear, hatred, uncertainty or loss. Lives that are full of sunshine and flowers.

I had an idea about what kind of a mom I'd be. That, I'd be spontaneous, fun and never impatient. I didn't believe being a parent would be all sunshine and roses, but I had a bit of a skewed idea of motherhood. I wouldn't be big on bedtimes, schedules could be made up as we went along and I'd never force my kid to eat when they didn't want too. If the food of choice was hot dogs, I'd go with it. The things Logan and I would do with said child, danced in my head. We wanted to travel the world, take our baby with us. Travel the US, see everything and anything. Just get in the car and go. I had great plans for the way my child would be, as well.

Then I was handed this teeny baby. And she was teeny, having been born a month early. She was also nothing like what we'd imagined. Not at all. Don't get me wrong, she was ours and she was perfect in our eyes. Our beautiful baby girl. God we adored her from the second she came into the world.

She was also great birth control, for tons of other people. Morgan is the kid that makes people go, maybe we'll start with a fish. She was a screamer, from pretty much birth on. She had colic so bad that we literally had to massage her stomach after every time she ate. She wouldn't breast feed, so I gave up within a week. It was okay, because I was open to whatever, but also because I needed to be able to give her to other people to feed. She had to be held at all times, non-stop. But only a certain way, which changed often. She wanted her way, all the time, from a very young age. She was a good sleeper at night, I will give her that. She started sleeping though the night at six weeks. She wasn't a good napper. She was not an easy baby, nor an easy toddler. In fact, nothing about her was or is easy.

My grandiose plans went right out the window. Our ideas of traveling the world with her as a baby, were dashed by the second day of her life. Morgan, even now at, seven and a half years old, is a child that needs a strict schedule. Bedtimes are a must, meals need to be at the same times, changes from the schedule must be explained over and over, for it to go off okay. Even then, it doesn't always work out for her. She has trouble with transitions, change, deviations from the way she knows it to be. Or wants it to be. We talk about what will happen in her day tomorrow at dinner every night. Over the past few years it has shrunk to: this is the basic plan type of a thing. It used to include great detail: you will wake up, you will eat breakfast, you will get dressed; a full timeline of her day. It wasn't for us, it was for her. We did it because she needed it.

This is just how my daughter is. It's a part of her, a part of her that frustrates me to no end some days. I also love it about her. She has changed my views of the world. She has shaped the mother I became. If Bailey had been born first, or even Harrison; I'd be a different mother than I am today. I might be that mother that I thought I'd become. The care free mom.

I am not that mother. I am not the mother I thought I'd be. I am a better mother than I would have been. I know this to be true. I have the rest of my life to travel the world, to see the sites, to live moment to moment. I may not be the mother that I wanted to be. However, I am the mother they need me to be. A mother with rules, who enforces bedtimes, a mother who makes them read half an hour out loud a night, one who makes them eat vegetables and brush their teeth. I don't make up elaborate art projects, nor do I cook from scratch. But I've found people who will do that stuff with them. I am not as patient as I thought I'd be....but I'm more patient than my mom was with us, so that's an improvement.

I can be spontaneous; the fun mom, who can let rules go for a night. I can run around and play at the park with them, pretending to be a fairy princess; build complex mazes out of pillows on my floor, to avoid the hot lava monster. I can let them go wild in a candy store every now and again. But the next day, I become mom again. Their mom. Morgan, Bailey and Harrison's mom.

I may not be the mom I thought I'd be, but I'd not give up the mom I am to them in a heart beat. It's the thing I'm most proud of in this world.

10 years ago today

It doesn't seem like 10 years could have gone by since Logan and I said, I do. Don't get me wrong, some days it seems like it's been a million years, but mostly it's gone by pretty fast. Three kids does that to you. You can't blink, because you'll miss it all.

My husband is not the man I married 10 years ago. I am not the woman I was back then. We have changed, grown, become different people. (Which hopefully happens when you marry at 19 years old.) We're lucky in the sense that the people we grew into, grew in the same direction and still get along. At least most days.

Yesterday was not one of those days. Yesterday was hard people. Just plain hard. But see, no one ever said marriage was easy. It isn't; it's a constantly challenging thing. Totally worth it, but not easy. As my mom says, if you don't have the horrible days, you'd never really appreciate the good ones. I've never aired my dirty laundry on this blog, not where it concerns my husband. I don't intend to start now, but lets just say, yesterday wasn't fun. It doesn't really matter today, because it was yesterday and now it's over.

However, yesterday we didn't act like people who have been married 10 years. We didn't act like people who love each other. Hell, we didn't even act like adults. (As Morgan says, we weren't acting our age or IQ. She loves to say this too the dog, although I'm not sure dogs care one bit.) I am not proud of it, but I'm not upset about it either. Life moves on, love is bigger than irritation and frustration. I have never been good at staying angry. It's too much dam work.

This morning, I woke up, turned over and was happy to see him. Him, the beautiful man I married. The man who was such a butt munch yesterday. Every morning, I look at him and I love him. No matter how pissed I might be, when he looks at me, I know I will always forgive him. Eventually. Because I love him. I love him more than everything in this world. I know that no matter what happens, he is here for me, and I for him. I'd move the moon for him if he asked.

10 years people. 10 years. I was going to be all sweet and sappy today, but I'm just not in the mood. Mostly because I am too freaking tired to form two thoughts that make sense. Instead I give you this:

Me: Babe, we've been married for ten freaking years. Don't you think it's about time you started actually hanging up your wet towels?

Logan: Iss, we've been married for ten years. Don't YOU think it's about time you gave up on me hanging up my towels?

And that my friends is what ten years of marriage looks like.

Feeling grateful

I am feeling the need to be grateful today. There are a few friends of mine who are going though some pretty horrible things and I just feel for them. My mom is sad because she misses my grandma. Lets not even talk about all the people losing their jobs left and right. So instead of really talking about any of that, I'd like to mention a few positive things today.

1. I am so grateful for that amazing, quick thinking pilot on flight 1549 yesterday. Because of his quick thinking, he managed to save over a hundred and fifty people. I was not shocked to hear that he had been with the Air Force. My grandpa was with the Air Force, and it made me smile. Today, I am grateful for Chesley B. "Sully" Sullenberger III, a true hero.

2. I have made the decision to stay at home. I feel a million times better not that I know I have made up my mind. What I'll do in a year or two, who knows. I'll worry about that then. In the moment, I'll enjoy squishing Harrison and picking up my girls from school every day.

3. In March, Logan and I will have been married 10 years. Every single day, I am grateful for him. Even when he tells me that we should go fishing for our anniversary.

PS. I wrote an article on Potty Training, that is going to be up at Alpha Mom today. Please if you have a moment, go and look at it. Thanks.

Inheritance

Inheritance is an interesting word. To some it means the money or items you receive when someone passes away. I guess this might even be the technical definition of the word. For me it's more than that. Inheritance to me, is the things I have in me, because of them, the ones who are gone. The people who touched my life, helped shape me into the woman I am today. The people I loved, who are no longer here.

In the last five years, I have lost all four of my grandparents. I know I'm blessed to have known them at all, to have had them in my life. I have been told this many times and I know it to be true. It doesn't help the sadness in losing someone, but it is a correct statement.

My grandpa (dad's dad) has been gone the longest. He passed away the day before Halloween, five years ago. From him I inherited the ability to distinguish a liar from a truth teller. It's all in the eyes he'd tell me. People look away when they are lying. They look you in the eye when they are telling the truth and it's not hurtful. When they are telling you the truth and it's hurtful to you, they look at your nose or their own hands. This is why he was such a good poker player, he could figure out someones tell, in seconds. Always look people in the eyes, he told me; then they know you care about what they are saying.

He used to take me on dates. Just me and him. Sometimes we went to the movies, sometimes out to dinner, occasionally to places like the zoo; but just us. He did it with my brothers (and later, my cousins) as well, but always as a one on one thing. This is something I do with my kids. Not all the time, but often enough. It always made me feel special and I can tell my girls feel that way too.

From him, I also am the biggest food and wine snob. I know what I like and how I like it and I'm not afraid to tell anyone. Good food is something I am willing to spend my money on.

My grandma (dad's mom) died almost three years ago. My daughter Bailey (Bailey is not her real name) is named after her. As a Jew, she held the belief that one should not be named after someone who is living. I did it anyway. I told her, this is my daughter and I'm naming her after you. She's as stubborn as you are and I am not religious and you really aren't either. Besides, you're dying anyway, so it's not going to take away from your longevity. Might seem callous to some people, but she laughed and laughed.

Bucking the system, that was her and it's what I got from her as well. She was born in Russia and her family came to America when she was a baby. One of the reasons they came here, was my grandma had a bad heart; she wasn't supposed to live to see her first birthday. In Russia in the 1930's, as a Jew, they were not going to get the best medical care for her. They had the money, but you know: Jew. So, they came to America in hopes of saving their daughter. When they got here, the doctors told her parents, she won't live to see two. Then it was five, then ten, then twenty. They don't know why she was still alive. Her heart was defected, it should have stopped by then. It wasn't fixable. At twenty, when she was still alive, the UCLA medical center studied her. She is actually in some of their training videos that students still see to this day. When she married my grandpa, they told her not to ever get pregnant, she'd not live to see the baby born. She had four kids, in a seven year time span.

She was a fighter. She did what everyone told her not to do. She was a nurse and later worked for the draft board in LA; in a time where few women worked. She divorced my grandpa when she found out he wasn't faithful, when my dad was ten years old; in a time when divorce was not at all common. She made it to seventy-five years old. Like, I said, she was a fighter.

My other grandparents, my moms parents, have both passed in the last four months. They died thirteen weeks, to the day, apart. I have just begun to realize how big of a loss this is. I tried to call her the other day. Harrison rolled over, like all the way over (and over) for the first time and I wanted to call and tell her. I let it ring once, before I remembered that she wasn't there to pick up the line. I can't make myself take the number out of my phone yet. Soon, but not yet.

Grandpa was a hard worker, he had the attitude that when you do something, you should do it right the first time, so you don't have to re-do things. You should always be willing to work. Laziness was not a word that was in his vocabulary. That and he always was doing something. Always working on some new project, something to challenge himself. He was career Air Force and then when he retired, he went into his own business. Created a second business for himself. This is where my feeling of un-settledness comes from. Because I have those same qualities in me. And they are great qualities, I just need to figure out what to do with them right now.

He was a helpful, kind person: he'd help anyone in need. I get this from him too. Sometimes, well often, I wish I could do more. In time, I will.

I also inherited his insomnia. This is one quality, I wish I could return to sender.

For my grandma, no one was more important than her family. She took care of everyone. No one who walked in her door was unwelcome, nor went unfed.

She taught us all at a very young age to play games. Card games, board games, puzzles. Might have been her way to not have to entertain us, but there isn't a grandchild of hers, who doesn't enjoy playing games.

My grandma was a funny woman. She was raised as an only child and went on and had six children. She was a prude; which I'm not. But it did always make me laugh. She was the woman who handed my mother (the fifth girl, by the way) the pamphlet from a tampon box at eleven years old. Read this, she said and tell me when you need them. That was it, the big talk. Once when my brother got up to pee at dinner, she chastised him for not going to a bathroom farther away from the table. He was seven years old. But bodily functions don't exist. At least that was her theory.

She was a little stuck in her ways; which I try so hard not too be, but I know in some ways, I completely am. She was good with money, which I did get from her. Luckily too, because some of her children really didn't. She was very organized with her way of thinking, although you couldn't always tell it by the way she was. I am this way too. You couldn't tell it by my house, or my life, but I am an organized person. I know what appointments are next week, or next month. I know my kids shot schedule and the days off of school for the remainder of the year. I remember all of my many cousins birthdays and middle names. I always know exactly what I need to get at the grocery store. But I don't have any of this written down. It's all in my head.

I had all four of them around me in different ways, for my entire life. They helped me become a decent person. The gifts they left me, are ones I will cherish always. Hopefully I can pass them onto my children. Gifts that are more important than money in the bank or stuff in my house. My real inheritance.

Grateful

Edit: Am actually putting this above all the rest, because it made my day. My friend M had her first baby on Wednesday. A beautiful boy named Connor Luke. Please go over and congratulate her.

1. Sun rising as I flew this morning.

2. Free upgrade from Hertz. Am driving in style.

3. Being here, with my family to honor her.

4. Dreaming about her last night. She told me she was doing great. Healthy and young and that I needed to be okay too.

5. Those bitsy little stuffed olives that they include in gift baskets of food.