They Buried my Grandmother today. I was not going to write about it but then while i was laying in my hammock i thought, Grandma Mission was the kind of person you have to write about, she's lived 98 years and been closer to me than anyone else in my family, she's been really quite a fantastic person, always surrounded by friends and family and friends who became like family, yeah Grandma, this blogs for you.

I recall jumping with my new red boots, musta been about 4, i was jumping from stairs with grandma and my aunt sara down below watching, i was just a kid, head filled with dreams, heart filled with wonder, guts filled with ice cream, but the only thing that mattered was those smart new red boots and these two wonderful people who were waiting to catch me if i fell.
Grandma Mission, last time i saw you, you was playing scrabble with my son, house filled with family busy cooking, talking, telling you what to do, i could see ya taking it all in, listening to everything, silent gentle Matriarch, how that family fussed and squabbled and their dramas unfolded, and you still managed to beat Jakob by a few points, no mean task, he was a smart kid. Ha you smiled and said 'the little one played very well.'
Ahhh Wimbledon, you always remind me of my Grandma, that old gothic house with three stories, the winding starcase, the cellars, the apple trees in the garden, the strange victorian lamp outside the room use to frighten me at night, the run from the tv room into the depths of the kitchen where you cooked amazing stuff and told stories and smiled.

I spoke to my brother today. He said we are burying Grandma. I thought to myself, 'nah, you're burying her earthly vessel. Grandma Mission's here with me, right now, in my kitchen cooking up some fishcakes, playing scrabble and waiting to catch me if i fall.