By Tynea Lewis 
There’s something special about a grandma. She loves you in a way no one else can. There’s something special about the way she looks at you or gives you a hug and a little pat. There’s something special about this woman whose legacy brought you into the world.
So many of my wonderful childhood memories are built around my grandma and going to her house. My grandpa died when I was two, so she was the only one who lived in the house. My dad’s mom passed away when I was less than a year old, so Mom-Mom is the only grandma I’ve really known, and oh, how I love her so! She has such a special place in my heart, and she has always made it a point to have a special place in my life.
She has always been there, from school recitals to field hockey games. From graduation to my wedding and baby showers. She has loved on me fiercely but with the incredible gentleness that makes her who she is.
Never once did she turn down a request to sleep over at her house. She invited me with open arms, and even though she hated doing arts and crafts, she graciously went along with my love of them.
She is a quiet woman, but her presence speaks volume. It’s not about always having the right things to say. It’s all about making a life with those we love. It’s about showing up for those we care about, and that’s exactly what she did . . . that’s what she continues to do, and I’m forever grateful I’ve had a grandma who wraps me in a hug and lovingly tells me how much I mean to her. I know that has not been the experience for all people with their grandparents, so the power of it is not lost on me.
Fifteen years ago, I gave her a gift for Christmas that was a joy to make. It was a booklet written from my heart of the sweet memories I had of my childhood days spent with her. From sleepovers and Easter egg hunts to foods we’d eat each time I visited, from counting cars that drove by her Main Street home to saving money in an old film canister to use on penny candy at the country store next door.
With each memory, my heart spilled onto the page. With each memory, I wanted her to feel the influence she had on me. With each memory I wanted her to get a sense of the love I’ve felt from being around her. Even at age 89, she will still bring up that little booklet. And she smiles every time. We spend moments sharing together those years gone by. We smile and giggle and sigh over those things that helped shape me in more ways than she’ll ever know.
Time moves along, and so much has changed. Her memory is not what it once was. I see her slowly slipping away, but I hold onto her and our times together with special fondness. My grandma has made such an impact on my life.
The day she passes away is going to be a day my heart is crushed, but I know the incredible memories will stay close to me. I will look back fondly at all the wonderful ways she loved me and encouraged me, all the ways she was present in my life. Oh, how I long to be present in that same way with my grandchildren one day. Even through my quietness, I can still make an impact, just like her.
by Elizabeth Dardes 
by Kimberly Phyfe 
