This is my Grandma. I love my Grandma and she loves her grand kids. To this day she still calls me her Abby-Baby. And gosh, she's beautiful. She has had that hair-do for as long as I can remember. I loved watching her poof it up each morning and then solidify it with hairspray. When we stayed at Grandma's house we would go into her room in the morning and crawl in bed with her after Grandpa had left for the farm. We would cuddle and giggle, my Grandma, sister's and I. I loved those mornings.
This is a picture of Grandma and I down on my Grandpa's farm. We spent quite a bit of time there as children. This pictures describes exactly what I remember on the farm as a child. A bunch of old dirty stuff strewn through the barn and the land and all the nooks and cranny's in between. But that's what made it Grandpa's. I have fond memories of running through the haystacks looking for Easter eggs, riding the dirt bike to the edge of the farm and back, searching for the new litter of stray kittens that Grandma loved having around. I broke my sister's foot on that farm. Sometimes Grandpa would let us ride in the back of the truck on our way to the farm. I remember when we got walkie talkies and talked back and forth from my parents car to Grandpa's truck during the short drive to the farm. Grandpa sold that farm. He still regrets it to this day. He was that farm and that farm was him. A little piece of Grandpa died the day it sold.
This is my Grandpa. My mom tells me that when I was young, I loved my Grandpa. I still love him, but there is nothing quite like a little girl and her relationship with her Grandpa. That was his hat, which I apparently thought would be funny to wear. My grandpa was always the strong, silent type. Can't you tell from the picture? But I don't feel like my relationship with him suffered because of it. That was just Grandpa. And if he has something to say, don't you worry, he will let it be known. He has a large garage out behind their house that he liked to spend time in. You would find him in there listening to classic country and tinkering around with the massive amounts of tools and knick knacks.
As I got older, visits to Grandma and Grandpa's house became less frequent. My social life became much more important, amongst the other conflicts. Then I became an adult and life was busy between school, work, and married life. They come up to visit often, but it was rare when I could make it down to their stomping grounds, which they remind me of often, and they get lonely when they haven't had visitors in a while. Grandma and Grandpa are getting older. Grandma doesn't remember as much and cooking and cleaning have become difficult tasks.
But I have a wonderful mother who decided I needed to serve. So tomorrow, my mom, two of my sister's, and my nieces head down to Grandma and Grandpa's. We will cook, we will clean, we will visit, we will do whatever we need to do to remind them of our love for them. Grandma will probably ask the same questions over and over again, and Grandpa probably won't say much. Which is perfect. Because happiness lies in the opportunity to serve and be around those you love.
