Grandma

This weekend my grandma, Sally Akkola, died.

It's teribly sad to think of the world without her in it, but she has been suffering for a long time now and everyone in our family knew she would not have wanted to live like that. We are very glad she isn't in any pain anymore.

When I think of Grandma Akkola, I think of the talks we used to have when I would visit ... usually over the summer. Most of the times these talks took place while she was "putting on her face" (her makeup). I would stretch out on her bed. She would look at me over the lighted mirror she used and we'd talk about our plans. Anyone who ever talked to my Grandma would know the one word you were guaranteed to hear when you asked a question was, "Well..." And she could stretch that word out to last until she figured out what she wanted to say. And then she would reply in a sing-song intonation that nobody will ever be able to get out of my head. Occasionally, I hear my mom talk like that and it makes me smile.

One of my fondest memories of Grandma was when we learned to swim together. I was probably 7 or 8. And neither of us knew how to swim. I was scared to death to learn. So was she. But we took lessons together. Grandma never really got the hang of it, but her courage to even attempt it helped me get over my fear.

Over the summers of my youth, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents when they were in Oklahoma City and then in El Paso. When Grandpa was still working, I spent most of my time with Grandma. She even got me to watch soap operas with her. No one (including my wife) has ever been able to do that.

I'm going to miss you, Grandma.