Marma
It's been 13 years now since my grandmother died, but her best friend, Virginia Page, is still alive and maintains a close relationship with our family. VP is in her 90s, sharp as ever, and more or less healthy. She fell and shattered a hip back in December, and I spent a lot of time with her while she was in Charlottesville at the rehab hospital. Since then, I've been sending her postcards from my travels and keeping up with her by mail. She always writes back when I send her something, and she always tells me how proud of me my grandmother was and still would be. There are few things that warm my heart more than this.
April 11th would be Marma's 103rd birthday. She was an amazing woman who lived an amazing life and was ready to go when she went. I can't say that she died too early or really in any way regret the conditions of her passing, but I think of her every day and I will miss her as long as I live.
Marma lived here in the mother-in-law apartment in my parents' house. Because I called her "Marma" and not "Gramma," I didn't realize that I had two grandmothers and that she was one of them. I just thought she was this friend of ours who lived here. I was probably five or six before I figured out that we were related. She was 5'3, thin and bony, and as wrinkled as an old woman can get, but she never looked old to me. She was my number one playmate, and I can't count the number of times she crawled around on the floor with me playing "cats." There's not much to the game -- you just act like a cat. Meow. She also played catch with me in the driveway most days, and was always up for a card game.
She died just before my 15th birthday, and lord knows I've changed a lot since 15, but Marma is such a huge part of who I am today -- no other person has ever had half as much influence on me. Because she was there from the day I was born, I took it for granted that I had this awesome relationship with my grandmother. But it didn't take me long to realize just how lucky I am to have had her in my life like I did.
April 11th would be Marma's 103rd birthday. She was an amazing woman who lived an amazing life and was ready to go when she went. I can't say that she died too early or really in any way regret the conditions of her passing, but I think of her every day and I will miss her as long as I live.
Marma lived here in the mother-in-law apartment in my parents' house. Because I called her "Marma" and not "Gramma," I didn't realize that I had two grandmothers and that she was one of them. I just thought she was this friend of ours who lived here. I was probably five or six before I figured out that we were related. She was 5'3, thin and bony, and as wrinkled as an old woman can get, but she never looked old to me. She was my number one playmate, and I can't count the number of times she crawled around on the floor with me playing "cats." There's not much to the game -- you just act like a cat. Meow. She also played catch with me in the driveway most days, and was always up for a card game.
She died just before my 15th birthday, and lord knows I've changed a lot since 15, but Marma is such a huge part of who I am today -- no other person has ever had half as much influence on me. Because she was there from the day I was born, I took it for granted that I had this awesome relationship with my grandmother. But it didn't take me long to realize just how lucky I am to have had her in my life like I did.