I wish I could tell you more about my grandma.
I’m the youngest grandchild. This probably means I was spoiled in some way, as I was the last baby to cuddle, the last toddler to dress up, the last little kid. I don’t remember any of that – I just remember being the last to grow up. The last to be old enough to play with the big kids, the last to be mature enough for the adult table. It also meant I had the least amount of time with my grandparents, the least amount of memories stored up. When I was only 13 and my grandfather passed away, I remember being bitter my older family members got more time with him. My brother and cousins got his presence at graduations and promotions; he would never be at mine. They got more opportunities to ask him questions. They got more time.