Let me tell you a story about my grandmother’s death, at least part of the story. This is kind of random and was inspired by my blog trolling – someone had written about the anniversary of a family member’s passing.
I can’t recall the exact date my grandmother died. I know it was around late August because it was “back to school” time in all of the stores. I was just about to start the eighth grade. My grandmother’s passing is pretty significant because she’s the one who primarily raised me. My mother was around occasionally. To be fair, I saw her rather often, but she did not live with me and was not my primary caretaker. That’s another story, however. People would say my grandmother spoiled me and I do not doubt that, although I never considered myself a spoiled child in the way that phrase is normally used. She just really loved me and showed it.
Sometimes I would whine and wish she was like a “regular grandmother”, the ones I’d read about in books and saw on television. Ones who baked cookies and had gray hair in a bun. Grandmother’s who knitted quilts and sat in rocking chairs. Instead, my grandma, whose name was Betty by the way, liked to go out. Her favorite thing to do was play Bingo. I mean, this woman must have gone to Bingo 3 times a week at least. She had a group of friends and they came together as “The Friendship Club,” which was often a misnomer. Those women would fight so much, but it was clear that they loved each other dearly. They’d go partying together and cook chicken dinners to sell. There was Ms. Dot-Lee who was kind of scary to me because she wore a big wig and there was Bay-Bee. You gotta say it like two words. Bay. Bee. She had a blonde-ish short cut and was crazy, yo. My grandmother’s best friend out of the bunch was Ms. Mitchell. I think I only recently found out she had a first name. My grandma only called her Mitchell. She had a jheri curl and was so smart-mouthed. Continue reading
bourgie, interrupted 