Guest Blog: My Grandma Christensen by Drama Queen

We’ve said goodbye so many times before, I always hoped we’d have another.  

I don’t remember the first time we said it. I was probably just a tiny baby: waving her fist back to you. Maybe the first time I said it was after my earliest memory of you: an overcast spring day when I held your hand while cousins and siblings ran all around rolling Easter eggs down a big dirt hill. You, like me, seemed content with watching and laughing at the others running and tumbling about.  

We said goodbye after busy weekend visits to your house. I remember playing card games and dominos at your “fancy” table - fancy cuz I couldn’t forget a coaster. My bougie grandma aesthetic definitely comes from being in awe of you. I liked exploring your yard but even more I loved attempting to play your perfectly gothic organ. The poor thing patiently groaning out my spooky made-up melodies. You were always so patient. So kind.

We said goodbye in parks and cemeteries our hearts full from sharing stories of family each Memorial Day. I always loved being the one to hold out an arm for you as we picked our way carefully between the headstones to visit Great-Grandpa Larsen who always clacked his denatures and Great-Grandma Relia whose red hair I envied. I relished most the stories of your husband and wished I could remember meeting the real-life Captain America that he was. When my dad shared his own stories about growing up it was like you heard them for the first time. You’d hide your face in your hands and giggle in embarrassment anytime someone mentioned you throwing the tv out into the yard. You spent hours collecting stories and creating books for us to keep. Did I ever tell you how much I appreciated that? I’m sorry if I didn’t.

We said goodbye after that crazy trip to San Francisco. Do you remember getting stuck on the bridge? I don’t know how you possibly handled all of us in my dad’s big van for that looooong drive. I wish we had more pictures from that trip.  

We said goodbye after weddings and funerals and baby blessings and graduations. We weren’t always sure when you’d be well enough to make it, so anytime you did it was like the Queen herself arrived. We’d rush to your side and rotate like planets around you: eager for gentle hugs. It always surprised me to find out I was taller than you: your soft cloud of curls was a crown that touched my shoulder. 

We said goodbye so many times that it seemed there’d always be time for one more. But like an Easter egg rolling swiftly down a dusty hill: time has kept moving. I held your hand at the top of the hill, but now I have to go pick up the pieces. And that’s okay. It’s how it’s meant to be. I’m so, so grateful for you. For your stories and your love and my dad. I miss you. I wish we could have had another goodbye. I love you, Grandma.