Dependablity

From my vacation to the Badlands: Even rock can show love.

Today is an odd day for me. My last grandparent has died, which leaves me a generation closer to old age and death. Only a few weeks from her 90th birthday, my Grandmother finally left this world. I say finally, because we all knew it was coming soon, even if she didn't. She didn't know much these last few years, but it didn't slow her down until the very end.

Dear Grandma wasn't the grandparent I begged to spend a week during the summer with every year. She didn't play, bake me cookies, or inspire me toward gardening or creative pursuits. She made just enough food for everyone present and not a morsel more. Though she had money, she didn't waste a penny on anything remotely frivolous. She greeted my crazy hair colors and clothing choices with nothing more than a slight eye roll and an exasperated 'oh heh'. That what all she had to say about most anything she didn't agree with. Oh heh.

She certainly wasn't the Grandma I considered fun. But she was always there. Dependable. When it came to taking me out shopping for birthdays she was there. She was always happy to provide a family Sunday dinner once or twice a month. And I always got a hug when I arrived and one when I left.

Most amazingly, though, as the years went by, the Grandmother than I'd always consider the kind, sweet, fun one grew sulky, angry and highly opinionated. Dependable Grandma, well, she stayed herself - smiling, hugging, and grateful for every visit even when she no longer had any idea who I was.

While I wouldn't mind being considered fun should I be fortunate enough to live into old age, what I truly hope to be is dependable.