My maternal grandmother passed away a couple of weeks ago. This coupled with a supeona I'd been served on another frivolous lawsuit from my downstairs neighbor meant I missed her funeral. I raced out of the courtroom after the case was thrown out (like every other one he's made) and made it to the graveside ceremony.
That was also the weekend that they decided to take my father off his drug program entirely and switch to traditional chemo, which he actually started this week. So far, he's doing well with it except for the usual fatigue. I noticed a good bit of swelling in his face when I visited last Sunday. We sat in the living room of my parents house, my dad napping on the porch, and divided up what small trinkets my grandmother had saved over the years. I knew she'd thrown away most of her letters, but there were a few prized correspondences and photos she'd saved over the years - one from her favorite brother about my mother's birth.
One mysterious letter that I believe was from her first fiance. It was written before my grandparents were married. I remembered the story she told me years ago, of how she and my grandfather ended up together. She loved a boy who was grandfather's best friend, who died of pnuemonia. They were both broken hearted at his death and brought together by it. It's the only person I can imagine the impassioned old letter being from.
My uncle handed me a small jewelry box and said I should take it home - that it was in nearly new shape and too good to toss. I picked a few key pieces of her costume jewelry to keep and put those in the box, along with a pair of green dress gloves like the kind she'd wear Sundays and holidays. The box has little black hairs in it that are obviously from one of her dogs but otherwise looks perfectly clean.
