Today I've been thinking a lot about my great grandma...
Her name was Earldine Brown, and she died a few years ago. I always called her "Gramma Brown" and I loved hanging out at her apartment, watching with wide eyes as she'd bake her favorite Wacky Cake. Sometimes we'd put puzzles together, and then she'd sit me on her lap and make me read to her. I remember the two stuffed bears that sat on her bed and sang "all you need is love" when you squeezed them. And I remember the time that Gramma Brown took me down stairs to the apartment's lobby and made me play piano for all the old ladies, she bragged to all her friends about how good I was, even though I wasn't. My Gramma was a die hard Jesus Freak, she preached fire and brimstone, and she wouldn't play cards.
I remember well when Gram was moved into a nursing home. I hated the way it smelled, how all the old people looked up longingly as I'd hurry down the hall to Gramma B's room. The only thing that made me want to go in there, was Gramma and her twinkly ice blue eyes. By this time I had given up piano to pursue the violin. Gramma begged me to play for her, but I told her to wait. "Just wait til I get better, and then I'll play for you Gramma!" I said.
Then she got sick.
Really sick. And you know what? I never did play violin for Gramma, because she died.
Her memorial service was dreadfully sad. She was the first person I had lost that I was close to. I remember walking up to the casket, looking in and seeing a face perfectly made up. It wasn't real though, it wasn't my gramma. It was a dead body with too much makeup on. I cried a little. And then I focused on surviving through the funeral. All I remember is the April rain racing down the windows and the annoying sad music in the background. I also remember my mumma getting up and telling stories about Gramma. The picture she painted for us was one of grandma smiling, laughing, picking berries, baking. All the things Gramma loved to do.
After the service, I never went to see Gram's grave. Not until this summer.
I had driven up to Bliss (yes it's an actual town, look it up) to meet a few friends of mine, we'd been having problems and I thought I could patch it up. I couldn't. I started home feeling defeated, and then I began thinking about Gramma Brown. And then I realized I was driving past the grave yard where she's buried. So I pulled in and began looking for her grave marker. When I found it, I fell to my knees in shock. Suddenly Gramma's death was real. After all these years I finally believed it. And I cried. Hard. And I never cry. But boy, I did. And then I felt a sudden warm peace....like everything was going to be okay. I never did fix the relationships I drove up there to mend, I hope someday I can... but I did face my fear of going to see Grandma's grave....of knowing she isn't here anymore, and I know she'd be proud of me. Sometimes I swear I can feel her smiling down on me from heaven. Sometimes I imagine her walking hand in hand with Jesus, and it makes me smile. And I look forward to seeing her again someday.
Today, I made a wacky cake in memory of my Gramma....and I decided to share the recipe with you. The cake is pretty stinkin' good with or without frosting. My Gramma would put cool whip on it, a lot of cool whip. ;)
3 cups flour
2 cups sugar
3 T cocoa
1 tsp soda
2 cups water
1 egg
3/4 cup oil
2 T vinegar
1 tsp vanilla
3/4 tsp salt
Preheat oven to 350 and mix all ingredients in a 13x9 pan and pop in the oven! It bakes for anywhere between 45 - 60 mins :)
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