If Memory Serves Me...

For just over fifty-one years of my life, my grandmother, Blanche, was there - all 64 inches of her, weighing in around 111 pounds thanks to diligent concern and calorie counting, fair skin, blue eyes and her signature red hair that continued lightening over time. I don't know how a woman of such small stature managed to loom so large, but she did. While she was not physically imposing, for years I let the notion of her disappointment or disapproval drive me mad. There came a day though when the framework changed, the day when it became undeniable that dementia was taking its hold and stealing parts of who my grandmother was. A few years later, the tables turned again, and at ninety-eight years old, she was simply gone.