Memories of Grandma Gray

I have so much more to say about my Grandmother, how sad I am that she is gone, how much I will miss her quiet, steady presence, and how much she gave to me. In losing her, I am losing that which kept me safe and loved all my life. In the midst of constant chaos and change, the steady ship she sailed offered me a refuge filled with delights.

She created an always-welcoming fantasy for me, one where “The Twelve Dancing Princesses” always lived on the bottom shelf, Barbie and her elegant wardrobe waited in the closet, and I slept in a beautiful bed, built for a princess with a pink shiny satin comforter at my feet. Meals were served at specific times, included all the proper food groups, and generally ended with a cookie, or maybe some sherbet. The garden seemed a magic kingdom were every beautiful flower grew, especially the beloved pansies and early spring bloomers. On Thanksgiving and the Christmas holidays, the table would groan with delicious food, including the never-ending bowl of mashed potatoes. The two little angles would fly on their candlesticks, and every chair in the house would be called into service.

As I grew up my comings were warmly welcomed, my visits always ended with a hug, and “it was so nice to have you home.” Though I never lived in Albion, 1120 Perry St. was my home in many ways. The biggest reason is that when I was there, Grandma considered me to be home. Many nights would find me reading late, sitting in Grandpa’s big chair by the heating duct. Often I was rereading the books from the bookshelves in Bo’s room, “The Bobbsey Twins”, “Cherry Ames”, or “Understood Betsy”. At 11pm, the light would turn off, leaving me sitting in the dark.