Live from Heaven on 9/30: ELVIS PERFORMS FOR BETTY PARKS' 95th BIRTHDAY BASH! (hopefully)

    My grandmother would be 95 this week. I mentioned recently about my close relationship with my grandparents in my Grandparents’ Day blog post, but with Grandma’s birthday on September 30, it felt right to explore my thoughts and feelings as a blog post again. I have so many amazing memories about her, but one of my favorites came from the last time we spent conscious time together. She wasn’t doing well, but she was coherent, alert and still very much herself. We held hands, watched a lot of Food Network (which must have been weird for her, because she never had cable at home, but did in the hospital and nursing home), and just spent time in each other’s presence. There were no trips to K-Mart, no lunches at Boston Market, Golden Corral, or Steak N Shake. I actually vocalized, sadly, probably for the first time, how much she meant to me and how much I loved her. Do you know what her answer was? She laughed a little bit, and said, “I know.” It gives me some comfort to know that even though I only casually told her that I loved her, she knew how much I did by the way I treated her. I had her in my life for 32 years, but that was so not long enough.

    In her memory, I’m making spanish rice for dinner tonight. I’m not even sure if it was one of her favorite meals or not, I just know that any time I asked her to make it, she would. If I brought a friend with me to visit, I asked her to make it, and she would. Something so simple--rice, tomato juice and ground beef--encapsulates so much of my childhood. When I would tell people about it, especially the fact that it was served with mashed potatoes, their faces would make the weirdest looks, but in the end, I don’t know one person who tried it, who didn’t like it. Grandma always made the mashed potatoes herself and would leave them “lumpy” just the way I liked them. She probably is shaking her head at me for using instant potatoes, but then again, I never could perfect cooking the way she could. We’ll be eating canned peaches for dessert. A meal always ended with peaches or pears at her house.

    Another thing about my grandma is that she never took BS from anyone. Now, obviously I didn’t know her when she was younger, so I’m not sure if that was something that progressed with her age, but I know that if she didn’t like you, she didn’t try to hide it. I always hope to be respectful to everyone regardless, and she was, but I also hope that one day I can have the confidence in my opinions and strength that she had to basically just cut the crap. I admired that so much about her.

    I’ve written about her being my biggest fan. I thought for a long while it was probably because she didn’t know about all of my mistakes and failures, so it was easy to be a cheerleader for someone who makes the right calls and decisions. It wasn’t until much more recently that I knew for sure that she knew every little detail about my life and still loved me and cheered me on regardless. I know this because since she’s been gone, I’ve seen my mom struggle with not being able to share the details of everyday life or be able to vent and look for advice from my grandmother when she’s struggling or having a rough day, or one of us girls has gone and done something stupid again. When I asked my mom about this, she confirmed that grandma was her sounding board and that she knew if she didn’t have a solution, my grandma likely would. She confirmed that she told my grandma everything. I realize just how similar of a relationship I have with my mother that she had with hers. The only real difference is I moved away from home, and we don't see each other in person, but I still talk to her almost every day. I call her and tell her everything. I tell her the little things, I tell her the big things--she's my sounding board just like her mother was to her. I guess in a way my grandmother lives on through that. I think a lot of us want to be just like our parents when we grow up, and it sounds like to me, my mother is living up to the high standard that her mother set for her, and I just hope I can do the same.

    I still cry pretty much 95 percent of the time when I talk about her, write about her, or think about her, and I probably always will. The hole that she left in my life doesn’t get any smaller as the time passes. I’m so blessed to have had her in my life, for her to be my grandmother. The one sentence I used to sum her up the week she passed still stands: Strength with the coldest hands, but the warmest heart. I miss you, Grandma. Hope you’re partying up 95 with Grandpa, while Elvis plays some of his greatest hits for you.