I always said I was lucky in the grandparent department; as the second born and oldest girl by quite a few years, my brother and two other eldest cousins and I got Grandma and Poppops in their prime 50s and 60s, when we all lived within a two-hour radius of each other and got to spend short blips of time doing special things and living ordinary life at frequent intervals. For awhile, they lived in New Jersey, and I have early memories of playing with toys in the cupboard under the TV and secret hideouts and orchestrating performances (so many performances!) in that basement. When they moved to the Jersey Shore, we ate seafood and ice cream by the beach. For a short time early on, they lived in New York City by the World Trade Center, and once she and my grandfather took us all dressed up to the Nutcracker, except she read the tickets wrong, and while we missed the first half of the show and she was devastated, I remember skipping down the sidewalk in my little plaid dress, thrilled to just be out and around them. As they headed down to North Carolina in my older years, it was the same - I loved just being in her and my grandfather's presence and idolized them fiercely. That was a theme - whether it was her teaching me to make risotto in a pressure cooker or comb through the clearance racks in Boscovs or (insert bargain store of your choosing) - I loved my time with her.
Grandma was born in the wrong time; a fiercely smart lady, she loved numbers and did a stint in an early version of programming, but she was swept into the 50's and 60's and a life of raising seven children born in the span of nine years and the 27 years of a child under 18 that followed. At some point in that chaos, she took up bridge, and made her way through to be nationally ranked. To her dismay and despite her urging, of her entire crew of children and partners and grandchildren, only my brother ever showed any interest in learning, and while bridge is definitely not something I would ever excel at… part of me wishes I'd have attempted. She did crosswords and sudoku, and her house was full of puzzles and mental stimulation, (and also Beanie Babies! It was always so exciting to be able to pick one out from her basket when we'd visit) and art and photos and knickknacks from her travels around the world; there was always something to look at and some tale behind it that she'd drop in tidbits if you asked.
She came with me and my mom to pick up Georgia, and for years her puppy photo graced her computer background… until the beagle ate her hearing aids, and she quietly muttered 'well Georgia, you might not be my favorite anymore.' When my kids were born and we'd all migrated to Arizona during the pandemic and after my grandfather's death, she transformed to ReRe and embraced her role of great grandmother and watched them grow, smiling with both her face and her eyes while quietly observing them climb around Playtopia. She both mourned and celebrated our move to Southern Pines ('it will always be my favorite place, you'll love it so much''), and while that brought distance between us again, there isn't a day I don't think of her and Poppops when I drive by Pine Knoll or St Anthony's or walk downtown or run by Paddock Lane. I wish we'd overlapped here, but there is a specialness to knowing when I meander around that she probably took these exact same paths, and there's a piece of her wherever I go.
She lived a good, long life and with my grandfather, left behind a strong, close knit family filled with love and support for each other, who, even without them standing there as matriarch and patriarch, will continue to live out their legacy.
Claire, Mom, Grandma, ReRe - you are so loved, and you'll forever be in our hearts.