| Grandma Steger : 1918-2004 I was studying for a History exam Monday evening, when my cell phone rang and I looked over to see it was from home. I knew at that exact moment what it was. Mom was on the other end. I said "Hello," she greeted me through tears. The only thing I could say for the next two minutes was "No." Mom informed me that Grandma had passed away within the last hour. There was no more wait, no more worry of how much longer she would suffer. Her time had come, and she has moved on to a better place I am sure that every one sitting here today has many fond memories of my Grandmother. She spent 86 years on this Earth living life to its fullest: nothing would ever stop her. This is the truth. She lived through the Great Depression, picking beans, by hand, for a quarter a day. She was dealt a blow, losing both of her daughters, Joan and Peg, 18 months apart. She used all her strength until the very end, trying endlessly to stand on her own after breaking her hip. She thought she was strong enough, and she was, but she had grown so weak over time that she could not do a simple a thing as walk down the hall. No matter how weak her body may have been, she would always be able to declare one thing to me and only me: "Shave off that mustache! It looks like the devil!" Today I shaved, Grandma, just for you. Grandma to a select few, Marianna to her friends in Snydersburg, "Sister" to the ones who grew up, grew old with her. She might actually be one of the funniest people you have ever met, alongside most caring. We all have stories. In the 20 years I have spent with her, I could probably write a never ending story on the things I have heard from others, the things I have experienced myself. Every Christmas, we would get a picture taken together, and I would always smile. Why? Because Grandma could make me by saying one word: �Laugh!� She would then cause an uproar by just laughing uncontrollably, and I could do nothing but have the biggest grin on my face. And she would grin, too. I grew up spending my afternoons at Grandma and Grandpa Steger�s house on Colonial Drive after school, I was their boy, one of them, to say the least. After school at their red brick rancher was like an exact science: I would get there, and supper would be ready: it was 3:15. It was so much an exact science that she had a menu of sorts. Mondays was breakfast for supper, she is probably the reason I have the knack that I do for homemade pancakes and sausage. Tuesdays was the beloved combination of Grilled Cheese and Tomato Soup, never burnt. She knew I was too good for that. Wednesdays was hot dogs and baked beans, my hot dog chopped up in to teeny squares, so I would not choke. I forget what Thursdays were, and I never had Friday afternoons there. After dinner, Grandma would clean up, as Grandpa would read the paper until we watched reruns of Press Your Luck. The second that was over, I had to be looking out the door for mom to arrive there at 10 after 5. Always on the go, never a moment to rest. This was a work ethic she kept with her until her dying day, until her last breath, until her time had come. One memory I know my immediate family will never forget was my Grandma� s birthday a few years ago. Along with Mom and Russ and my brother, Korey, we headed up the street to celebrate another great year for a great Grandmother. She was in the rarest form that night. It were as if she had given her state of the union on the terrible programming she saw on television. She had declared that there was nothing but filth on the idiot box: "look at that Jerry Springer and all that trash he has on his show, and that Lorrie Morgan got married again. And Dolly Parton, Good lord!" Good Lord. Two words my Grandmother shouted for years whenever she was getting all riled up about something. It was like her catch phrase, her slogan. Now, she is with him, for eternity. And then there is the one story I will never grow tired of hearing my mom tell me. Years ago, my mom came over to the red brick rancher on a rainy day to find grandma in the garage laying out newspaper under the car. "What is she doing?" Mom asks Grandpa upon entering the house. "I don�t know, Vic, she�s nuts!� My Grandmother did not want the floor, the cement floor of the garage, to get rainwater on it. My Grandmother is in fact not nuts, she is the cleanest person I know, and the neatest. Mom was just telling me the other day how whenever they would bring flowers down to Grandpa�s grave, that she would bring her clippers, and trim the grass up to make it look presentable. Now that it is her home, maybe I should trim up the one piece that is longer than the rest whenever I go and visit. So now comes probably one of the hardest things I have ever had to do: Saying goodbye to one of the most important people in my life. I was not there to say goodbye a few days ago, but I know this is how I am to say my goodbye. No one has been there quite like you, Grandma, no one will ever be able to take your place. As sad as this very moment is, I am also very happy. I�m happy knowing you are at peace, no longer in pain, no longer suffering, no longer alone. You are where you belong, you have your family again. Back with Grandpa, back with Peggy, and back with Joan, who I am sure is one of the greatest daughters a mother could ever ask for. She did give me my mom, and though we have yet to meet, my other Grandmother is someone I am forever in debt to. You have your family back, while your other family, your other daughter, and your boys, stay here and remember you for the rest of our time until we meet again. Say hi to Pap for me, I sure bet he is happy to have his wife back by his side. |