My dads mom has taken the higher road, passing out of this life and stepping into the infinite and beyond. Irene Miriam Gerber she was first, then she married a Greenberg who passed away before I was me, and later became a Goodman. I only knew Irene Goodman, and she was my perfect Grandmother. She had an old ladies coo that could melt the iciest and toughest of hearts not to mention wrought a smile across your face like it was made out of metal. Even if you wanted to smile you had no power to resist. I loved her dearly even though I barely saw her. I think about the lack of our relationship and I feel regret.
It always seemed like my brothers and I could do no wrong, or no ill, bad enough to ruin her grandson obsession. How she made us feel special. Whether I performed some half-assed breast stroke which probably looked more like a single-finned catfish flailing in a hotel pool, she made me feel like I was an Olympian. As a young kid I could not pronounce "grandma," and when I tried to say "gram," the sound "bam" came out. Bam seemed to stick all the years I knew her.
The one time she came down on me was when I was disrespectful to my father. Oh my did she put in my place, and rightly so. I was a punk-assed little kid who thought he was hot shit until her 75 plus years of wisdom put me in my place, and I will never forget that lesson. Don't ever anger a Matriarch. And that's what she was.
My last times with her were good. Riddled with an oxygen tank she could still put down a beer at no coaxing. As we all sat in a room hungry men, trying to organize the days agenda, she enjoyed some kind of chocolate candy bar. We all stared at her candy and Wes even said that it looked good. She said calmly "You would enjoy it," and continued to work on that candy bar without offering a bite, a little old lady, enjoying her candy bar. It was hilarious. I'm sad at the passing of my Grandma and for the few times I had to see her. Even still, in those handful of times, I felt like our souls had always known each other. Bam, your heart was warm and your wisdom was great. I will miss hearing your laugh, your voice, and will take comfort in the thought of you resting somewhere in the sky. Maybe in the waxing light of some star which matches your brilliance, looking down on and watching out for me.