[written yesterday, July 6]

Those who know me well would likely agree that in my essence I carry a childlike spirit.

However, I haven't felt quite so young and helpless in the past decade or so as I did today.

I got the call around 1:00 PM.

I was in the midst of chatting with a dear friend and her beloved children as they giggled sweet little "Happy Birthday Mary Kate!"'s and observed the countless dinosaurs scattered around my office as I took them on a virtual tour.

My mom called once.

I ignored it, thinking she might have just been calling to wish me a happy birthday and that I would return her call later in the afternoon.

She called again, and I knew this was not a "call back later" scenario.

From the first note in her "Hello?", it was evident that something was not right, something had gone wrong.

"There's no good way to tell you this..." she began. And I knew.

"Grammy passed away this morning."

My mom's mom has been sick for several years, suffering with dementia since around the time my grandfather, her husband, passed away the fall of my senior year in high school in 2007.

We've watched her beautiful mind that once helped her read and comprehend books, much like a person might eat pieces of popcorn one right after the other, deteriorate as did her body as it slowly fell in line.

My memory isn't the best, but I do remember very clearly that much of my childhood was wrapped up in her cozy little town of Tullahoma, TN. Her home was where I found refuge from the humdrum of reality. I loved spending the weekend with her and my grandfather, and while he was the one who taught me most about being responsible and tricked me into eating carrots because "They make your eyes sparkle!", she was the one whose side I'd never have left if I'd had my way.

We had a usual routine when I would visit her. The library for books and VHS tapes, the local Discovery Museum to inspect various exhibits and race the light that sped down the wall at the speed a cheetah runs just to see if I could beat it (though I never did), Waffle House as I scarfed down breakfast and observed her carefully mixing her usual coffee concoction, the country club of which they were members feeling so fancy and important as several people would predictably stop by our table to talk with her and Grandpa, laying on the squishy carpet of her living room floor flipping through countless photo albums as she pointed to different people and recalled stories about them, playing numerous card games and Chinese Checkers and Gooses Wild.

We did so much together when I was little, and that is how I will always remember her. The tiny lady who never stopped smiling or playing or going or doing for her family.

I'm convinced that such a sweet and vivacious spirit as hers has never lived in another, and I am so glad that I got to learn from her about being kind, intelligent, humble, playful, and the importance of having a good sense of humor. By her side, I learned about the important things all while still having the chance to be a kid and to withdraw from the busyness of life. 

My birthday is no longer just my birthday. It is her end-of-life-in-pain day. And I am both deeply saddened and honored to share the day with her in such a way. 

Wherever Grammy went, endless magic, wonder, and love seemed to follow. That's how I will always remember her in my heart. That's how I will always hope to live my life. Just as she taught me to do.