An Ode to the Best Old Geezer Who Ever Lived

Before getting into this blog post, I want to explain that this blog post is a tribute to my paternal grandmother, who died last week. The title of this blog post“ An Ode to the Best Old Geezer Who Ever Lived” refers to how she would refer to herself. She would say things like “I’m just an old geezer” while smiling mischievously. She would refer to herself and her friend group as the old geezers. This is the first family member I’ve been close to who has passed away while I’ve been an adult. I will forever be grateful for her and the role she played in my life; please continue reading:

It’s an ode to the best old geezer who ever lived, who has been in my life since I was born. I know you visited me when I was in the NICU and held me. The first memory I have of you is the Easter time when you would come to visit. You would always reach into our Easter baskets and say, “I’m sorry I’m eating your candy.” You would only ever eat one or two pieces. I never understood why you were apologizing to me. You were the adult, and you could do and take what you wanted. The fact that you noticed I might even be upset over the missing chocolate eggs was a sign of our relationship in the future. You did not want to be a burden and hated causing inconvenience.

You would always insist on sleeping on the couch when you would spend the night. “ I always fall asleep on the couch at home,” you would always say. You were there for my high school graduation and many holidays, visited my college, met many of my boyfriends, and saw me through my teenage years. My first year of high school was one of the most challenging times of my life. Panic attacks, depression, and self-loathing became regular occurrences. I didn’t know what to do with myself. My parents had a family crisis to manage, and I didn’t want to bother them. I would always run to you. I would call you on the phone and cry. You would just listen. I was never judged, and you always answered my call. If you didn’t answer, you would call me back. Those phone calls kept me grounded throughout college and into early adulthood.

Growing up, I felt I didn’t fit in with my family. I couldn’t connect with my siblings, was different from my cousins, and didn’t understand any of my other extended family members. My grandma was the north star that showed me I did belong. Our personalities are similar, we both dressed for comfort, wore very little or no makeup, and there was no judgment. She reminded me that I belonged in my family if I ever doubted if I belonged. She never wanted me to change. She was just happy to talk to me. I like to talk. She wanted to listen. She became one of my best friends. Adults don’t always listen to what you say when you’re a child. I could talk about anything, and she would listen.

I needed that. I needed someone who would hear the thoughts ricocheting around in my head and not tell me how selfish I was. I needed to know that there was a place I could go, that I was accepted and that I wasn’t a burden to anyone. I needed to know that there was someone in my family like me because connecting with other people was so hard. So she became not only my grandma but my best friend. We talked about so much. She told me about meeting Grandpa at college, her stepsister, and what it had been like being the first in her family to graduate from college. She told me about how she had discovered her love of accounting later in her professional career. I didn’t know until I was an adult that, initially, she had studied social work. 

She was always a family member that I liked growing up. She wasn’t loud at the family gatherings. She would play board games with me and had a good sense of humor. When I wanted to wear running shorts on Thanksgiving, she didn’t care. My family would dress up for the holiday meals and get-togethers. More than once, I was sent back upstairs to change into nicer clothes. Battleship, monopoly, and checkers were a few of the games we played. Every Thanksgiving, she would get a turkey leg, she loved to say she would eat it clean. Holidays were more bearable and less painful with her presence. I could always count on finding a kindred spirit in her. She loved to read, and I would ask her what she was reading. She introduced me to Agatha Christie’s books, which I still enjoy. She helped all of us, including my siblings and me, enjoy reading by purchasing engaging books for us growing up. Education was important to her. 

This blog post is a love and thank you letter to someone who was, is, and will forever be one of my favorite people. She grew up during the great depression and was so frugal that she either cleaned her plate or took the leftovers home. She never talked about her feelings to me; she just would relay events that had happened. I will always be grateful for her steadiness, love, support, and kindness. Even though I had her for twenty-nine years, I would love to have had twenty more. I had hoped for her to attend my wedding, meet my children, and continue to exist forever. There’s never enough time with the people we love. We love cats, books, and going out to eat. She has been a wonderful grandmother, confidant, and best friend. It’s hard to imagine life milestones happening and not having her to call to tell about them. I know no one lives forever, but the idea that I didn’t have to think bout her dying kept the fear and pain at bay. Thank you for everything, Grandma; I couldn’t have gotten this far without you. I will always love you. Please tell Grandpa hello.