On Sunday, I received a phone call from my dad.  My grandmother is dying.  She wasn't expected to live through the weekend so I presume that I will be getting a call any day saying that she has died and the time/date of the funeral.  Unlike my grandfather, I was very, very close to my grandmother.  I cried off and on all day yesterday as I remembered her.  She was a class act and a wonderful person.  I am going to miss her terribly.

She taught me to sew.
She inspired me to learn rug hooking.
She made the most wonderful Easter eggs with handmade frosted flowers that were truly works of art.
She made me sweaters.
She made me a quilt for my first Christmas.  I was born less than 1 month before.
I remember her jellied hocks and salad plates. 
I remember the assortment of cheeses at the table and going shopping with Grandma and being allowed to pick out the cheeses I wanted to try.
She collected stamps and as a result I did too for a number of years.
I remember going to a bell-ringing concert that my grandmother was in.  I was so proud of her.
I remember going on boat trips with my grandparents in a house boat that my grandfather made.
I remember eating Kawartha Dairy ice cream at the cottage with them.
She made bread and it was absolutely delicious.  I can remember the warm rolls with melted butter on them.
She made cakes for birthdays that had hidden money in them.
I remember the gardens that my grandmother loved to tend with their brilliant flowers.
She loved to watch birds and I still have a bit of that in me.
She had wonderful handwriting.

She was a wonderful grandmother.  The kind of grandmother you think about when you think about the kind of grandmother you would want to have.   I was lucky to have known her until I was 40.  The world was lucky to have had her.