My Gammie, Mildred Catherine Stevens

The best kind of person to have in your life is someone you have so many memories with it is impossible to recount every one. Ironically, that also makes them the hardest kind of person to lose. Even though my Gammie lived for 90 years and 7 months, I will never feel as if I had enough time to share with her.

We were always very close. My positioning with her was God given, if you will, favoritism attributed mostly to the fact that out of 4 grandchildren, I was the youngest and the only girl. But our connection was more than that. Growing up I always knew no moment was complete until I shared it with her. No news that I had was ever received with more enthusiasm than when I told my Gammie about it. No one thought I was prettier, smarter or more talented than my Gammie did. If I was teased at school - which I was, often - she was the first to tell me that the other kids were just jealous of me. And she said it with such conviction that sometimes I even believed her. When I would visit her, the first 10 minutes were filled with her telling me how pretty I was or how much she loved me. Everyone needs that kind of love in their life.
Without her in our life, my mom, my brother and I would have been lost. Some may think it unfortunate that my mom had to move back in with my grandparents when we were young. But it was an amazing gift and a time I will forever feel fortunate for. Living with my grandparents meant every day after school I came home to a bowl of M&M's, Nickelodeon and my Gammie who was always there to be with Erik and me. It meant that after school when everyone else was being picked up in their mom's mini vans, my brother and I got to be picked up by a black Camero by our Gammie who wore leather pants and dangly earrings. Gammie made my brother and I special and unique. Everyone wanted a grandma like ours. One who favored playing tennis and wearing Poison perfume over their grandmothers who knitted and smelled like old wool.

As I got older and moved out of the house my Grandma's house was where I would return to when I felt like my world was spinning out of control. It was the one place I had on this earth where I felt safe. And like all wonderful grandparents do, my Gammie would make sure when I would visit that I had enough to eat and when I left her house I always left with more than I came with. Whether it be a bag of groceries foraged from her cupboard, coupons, magazines, candy or a few extra dollars to help me out. Gammie was my haven and my soft place to land. After our visit together she would walk me out to my car and as I drove away I could always see her lips moving as she said her ritualistic prayer for me which she was convinced would keep me safe, "Wrap Stacy in white, with Saint Christopher and Saint Jude on her shoulders."

Right about a year before my Gammie began leave the house less and less, she and I would meet for coffee every Friday before I went into work and before she got her weekly haircut. We would spend an hour every Friday sitting and talking. I loved those visits.

Over the past few years my Gammie's sparkle began to fade. She has been in and out of the hospital countless times. Many of which we didn't think she would make it out from. Our visits of lengthy talks and catching up were replaced by her circle of questions, "Are you happy?", "What have been up to?", "What do you do for fun...see any good movies lately?" And those questions would be asked over and over for the entire span of our time together. It broke my heart to let go of her little by little. It broke my heart to see her legs swell with fluid, to hear her constant coughing and wheezing. My Gammie never wanted to be old. She never wanted to be sick and in pain. She was like lightning, strong, fiery and electric. But time had reduced her to less than that and I knew it made her sad. She was trapped in a body that didn't match her spirit. For 90, she looked amazing but for Gammie, she looked sick.

This Christmas, although my Gammie still wore her pretty Chico's outfit and was decked out in all her usual accessories. She had two new accessories that made my heart sick - an oxygen tank and a wheelchair. I knew it wasn't long until she would leave me....until she would leave us. But I just don't know how to let her go.

My Gammie is vibrant and sparkly. She would enter a room of strangers but would leave the room with friends. And I loved her so very much. I know she was hurting, I know she was sick. I know she wanted so badly to let go but no matter what, I am not ready. Even though I feel like I have been trying to prepare myself for years, I am not prepared for this. I am not ready to let her go or to let her fade away. To do that would mean I too fade away because so much of what I am is because of her. She knew how much I loved her, she knew how much she meant to me and I know how much she loved me - which is why letting her go is so hard.