Death is a curious thing. No one knows for certain what happens, if there's a bright light at the end of the tunnel, two doors that you have to choose between, or if you're greeted at the pearly gates. No one knows,and that makes it an uncertainty, and sometimes a scary thing.

My grandmother died, at 82 years old, on Wednesday, July 6th. Grandma Pat was the keeper of the flintstones push-ups, the nasty wafer cookies in the middle drawer, the old percolating coffee maker and the rotary phone.The bringer of the olives, pickles & cherries to Thanksgiving & Christmas dinner, she had gumption, and I like to think I got mine from her. Completely honest (that woman never told a lie, I swear), a great judge of character, she told it to you how it was. She was a 1950's woman through and through. Skirts and bathrobes she was the fun Grandma, who knew what "What's up Dog" and "pulling a Britney" meant. Her collectors Barbie dolls always stood in the curio, and there was always a new one for me to oggle.

Rembering these things make me smile. Then I feel bad for smiling, because I feel like I should miss her, and at times I do. I miss her 50's radio station, I miss walking into their house and being greeted with the smell of coffee and cigarettes smoke. I miss sitting on the couch complaining about how unfair my dad was, and having her tell me "He wasn't perfect in his time, and he's a first-time parent. He's going to make mistakes just like you do." I think about how there won't be any pickles or olives or maraschino cherries at Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner anymore, then I say 'Pashaw, I'll bring them'. I remember Grandma in her rollers, nightgown & robe at night, watching her old 70's program that I thought was uber boring. I remember laying on the floor the night Jay was born, waiting for the news of my baby brother who I so badly wanted to be a girl. I remember being so annoyed that Grandma slept on the couch and kept the TV on until she was ready to go to sleep.

Then there's times that I'm happy and completely at peace, because I know. I know that there is a Heaven and I know without a doubt that my Grandma is up there. I know she's back to looking like she was in her 20's, and I know she gets to see her brothers as well as her mom and dad, and I'm happy for her. I got to have her for 23 years of my life, and I'm going to miss her deeply, but she lost her brother earlier than that, I think, and now she's seeing him again. This means that now, when I get married, she can be at my wedding. She can be overlooking it, wherever it may be, because when she was alive, she wouldn't have been able to travel. She gets to watch every single one of us now, instead of waiting for phone calls, and I'm happy for her. We get eternity together later on, and I'm okay with that.

This may be way too spiritual for some people, but certain events in my life have made me believe in God more than I ever did before, and I have complete faith in Him. I know he has my Grandma now, and I know she's happy. As sad as we may all be, Grandma lived a great life, had 4 children, eight grandchildren, and three great grandchildren. She's golden, she's safe, and she's making sure we all are as well. Grandma said to my dad before she died, "Jack, I'm not scared of death. I'm not looking forward to it happening, but I'm not scared of it. I had a strong Lutheran upbringing and I'm going to put it off as long as I can, but I'm not scared of it."

If Grandma isn't scared of it, than neither am I. I'm not excited about it, and I'm sad she's gone, but I'm at peace with it, and I still love her with everything I got.