Goodbye, Sweeite

Mary "Sweetie" Walsh, my maternal grandmother, died today in Cleveland. After years of living with Alzheimer's Disease, she passed away in hospice care surrounded by her children. Ever since the death of her husband, my Grandpa Bill, Sweetie had been fading farther and farther from the woman I knew as Grandma as a kid.

The Sweetie Walsh that I knew as a kid was a truly jolly woman. I remember the smells and the feelings associated with being at her house. There were always cooking smells. She was always cooking something, more often than not in the oven, so it was always a surprise to see what she'd pull out after the timer dinged. I remember the smell of old things. She had a basement, a second floor, and closets full of old things. Things from her children's childhoods. Things from the '50s and '60s. Things that my brothers and I used to pull out, try on, play with, and occasionally make a mess of. I suppose she treasured these things, or maybe growing up in the post depression era taught her not to throw anything out, lest it be needed later.

I remember the feel of her velveteen sofa. One of my favorite pastimes when visiting grandma was napping. My Grandpa Bill taught me how to nap. Before that, I thought that napping had to be done in bed, but Grandpa showed me that naps could be taken on the sofa, or even sitting in a chair in front of the TV.

Grandma would always spoil us too. I remember her ice cream sundaes as some of the best I've ever had. We had ice cream at home occasionally, sure. But at Grandma's house you could always count on ice cream with chocolate syrup, sprinkles, melted peanut butter, and very often there were some Spanish peanuts thrown into the mix. Ole! And she would make a damn fine root beer float, too.

One of the things I remember best about my grandma is her sense of humor. She always knew how to make me laugh. I'm sure when I was a baby she gave me raspberries on my tummy and played peek-a-boo, but even as I grew older, I recognized the savvy about her that, when combined with her sweetness, made it hard for anyone to resist her charm by not smiling or laughing.

All the Christmases where she got me the perfect gift and beamed as I opened it, all the baptisms and weddings where she wore her best dress and was the warm center of the family that everyone gathered around. All of the nights where she gave me a bath and then sang to me as I tried my best to go to sleep in the old scary back room of her house, and all of the little looks of fondness and love that she gave so freely every day. These are the things I will forever remember of my Grandma.

I love you, Grandma Sweetie, and I will miss you.