She leaned down so that I could whisper in her ear with my hands cupped around my mouth. My eyes darted over to my parents to make sure they weren’t paying attention as I divulged to my grandma the scheme my brother and I had devised to spy on Santa that Christmas Eve night. Her blue eyes sparkled, and she barely contained her amusement as she listened to our plan to sneak back upstairs after Mom and Dad went to bed. She delighted in her grandchildren, and we could do nearly no wrong in her sight.
However, I do remember one particular occasion that my brother was getting into mischief - enough to warrant a stern reprimand from the sweet-natured woman everyone knew wouldn’t hurt a fly. “Ryan David Wayne!” she exclaimed with a scowl that quickly melted away as she realized her mistake of adding my Dad’s middle name into the rebuke of my brother. My brother’s offense was completely forgotten by all three of us as we laughed together and went about our day.
We loved going to grandma’s house. We’d sit on her lap and watch Cartoon Network while snacking on buttered pop-tarts, bread and butter, or her candy stash. She knew I liked to draw and always made sure to have a stack of paper and colored pencils ready for me to use. I’d play on her keyboard, and she’d tell me about how much she liked listening to Randy Travis, Alan Jackson, and George Strait. Occasionally, I’d eat pickles, and she’d let me drink the pickle juice when they were gone. She’d also make us strawberry milk and let us take it to bed until we accidentally spilled it all over the water bed one night. Even with mishaps such as that, she adored us and would have given us the world if she could.
Grandma was always there. She watched us overnight when our parents needed a sitter. We knew we would see her at the end of any ballgame, concert, or school play. When Grandpa bowled in a league, she would sometimes take us along to watch him. I remember falling asleep on her lap there once. At the motorcycle shop, she had toys we could play with, and she’d walk out with me to get a cream soda from the pop machine. Even into adulthood, I could look forward to a phone call on my birthday and a birthday card every year from her and Grandpa. After I was married and moved over 6 hours away, Grandma came with my parents to see our house and spend some time with us in Kansas.
Most holidays were spent at least in part at Grandma’s house, and we thoroughly enjoyed her family-famous chicken and homemade noodles, fried chicken, and scotcheroos. She loved making her kids’ and grandkids’ favorite dishes. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Grandma relished the time when we would help her put up her Christmas decorations. She would tell us stories about the older ornaments, and our excitement and innocence brought her great joy. For Christmas Eve, we would attend the Christmas Eve service at Grandma’s church, and then she would always let us open at least one gift afterwards.
I was her “Sweetheart,” and she was one of my safest places on earth. She loved her family fiercely and would have given her right arm for any of us. Giving and taking care of everyone were her things. Every goodbye was accompanied by a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and an “I love you.” We loved her dearly too.
This last goodbye has been harder to stomach. Grandma tested positive for Covid-19, and it is also suspected that she may have had a stroke. While her health had been declining for some time, we were still caught off guard when we were informed on November 25 that she had taken a turn. On the afternoon of November 27, Grandma went home to be with Jesus. Our hearts are aching with her absence, but we are grateful that her suffering has come to an end.