"You're born alone and you die alone."
 
 

For a long time, I misunderstood that phrase of my grandmother's.  It sounded so lonely.  And yet now, I get it.

 
Although we may be surrounded by loving parents while exiting the birth canal, and we may be surrounded by grieving friends and relatives when transitioning to the other side, it's our own unique experience.  Nobody can do it for us.  There may be those we want, but we're really all we've got, so we'd damn well better be there for ourselves.
 
This is just one of the many things she taught me.   This was a woman who talked 24/7.  She talked while she was awake, she talked in her sleep, she talked while eating, and she even talked to herself when she was alone.  She claimed she was the only one that gave her the right answers. So why, when she passed over, would she stay silent for a year?
 
I can't answer that question, but I remember the day about a year after her death when I saw her and my grandfather smiling and waving at me.  And since then, she's talking again, just like in life, all the time.  I thought it might be important to introduce you to her since when you call me, you're getting her, too. 
 
So, here's to you, Grandma, a few of my favorite quotes and memories:
 
Men LOOOOOOVED Grandma, each and every one of them.  I never met a man who didn't.  They would say, "She knows how to treat a man."
 
When they came to her house, she would say, "Here, you take the big chair.  It's a man's chair."  She catered to them, what would they like to eat, drink, watch on TV. Whatever they wanted, they should have, and it was her job to get it for them.  Now what man could resist that, a woman that "got it" and treated them like the men they were.
 
But what none of them really understood was what was behind it. It was Grandma's firm belief that men were helpless creatures with large egos and just didn't know any better. They needed us, and without us, well, they just couldn't survive.  
 
She was much harder on the women.  We had to be tough, as we were the caretakers, the survivors, and although she herself was married over 60 years to the same man, she felt all a woman had to depend on was herself.  It was just fine to let them think they ran the world.
 
Some of her favorite sayings were:  "A woman knows more in the cradle than a man will ever know," and "A woman possesses more in her little finger than a man has in his whole body."  When I'd complain about a man in my life, she'd tell me, "What do you expect?  He's just a man" or, the funniest of all, "You knew he was a man when you married him."
 
But it made her happy to serve them and to make them feel appreciated and understood, so what could be wrong with that?  Win-win situation.  So was she a man lover or a man basher?  In my opinion, she loved men, the poor helpless beings, but you decide.
 
My very favorite saying came from her, and many of you have heard me say it many times:  "Nobody ever died of a broken heart.  They just wished they would."
 
Truer words were never spoken, for a broken heart is one of the most painful things any of us ever endure.  There's no escaping it.  Physical pain, we can twist and turn our bodies, take a pain pill, go to the doctor.  Emotional pain, we just have to walk through the fire and endure.
 
This woman taught me so much during her lifetime, and luckily for me -- or us -- it continues on today. 
 
She was married to my grandfather for over 60 years, and although she was fond of saying, "This isn't a marriage, it's an endurance contest," she was the one that taught me the meaning of true love with one simple act.  On the day my 97-year-old grandfather died, while we stood gathered nearby him in the hospital, she stood at his bedside and brushed his hair.  While she stroked his head, he gazed up at her and said, "Isn't she beautiful?"  And you just knew he meant it because, you see, he was almost blind. 
 
Grandma lived on past Grandpa for over a dozen years, and we were so fortunate that she got to know my daughter Katie.  Katie gave her such joy.  Ever since Katie was very small, each and every time Grandma saw her, she would say, "You're Grandma's girl."  And each and every time, Katie would reply, "Momma's girl" and laugh.
 
Grandma was quite feisty and taught Katie to swear.  It wasn't on purpose, of course, but every time Grandma would come to visit, I would find Katie throwing her arms up in the air and screaming, "Dammit!"  When I complained to Grandma and asked her to be more careful of her language around the baby, she would just say, "She doesn't listen to anything I say, so why should she pick up that," and just continued on being herself, with a two-year-old in hot pursuit imitating her every word -- at least the bad ones.
 
Now one thing I forgot to tell you, Grandma was a nurse.  In her later years, when she could barely speak, the nurses would come in and poke and prod her, try to draw blood, and she would mumble, "Don't know, don't know." The nurses would ask me what was wrong and what she was trying to tell them.  I really got a big kick out of explaining,  "She says you don't know what you're doing."
 
But the sweetest thing happened during Grandma's last visit to the hospital.  The final time my Katie saw her Grandma, Grandma, as usual, said, "You're Grandma's girl," and Katie, trying to hide her tears, choked out, "Yes, Grandma, I'm your girl."
 
She passed over soon after, but she wasn't alone, not for a single second, because she was a woman that was never lonely.  After all, she had herself, the only person any of us really need.