
Losing My Grandparents Too Soon
There is a graphic going around Facebook that says something about being able to go back to your grandmother’s kitchen, just for a moment. So many of us have memories of our grandmother’s kitchen. I know I do.
As a young girl, I remember baking cookies with my grandma. It was a tradition; sometimes certain smells remind me of those days. The smell of coffee mixed with a slight whiff of cigarette smoke from my grandpa brings me back to her kitchen in Glendale, Arizona.
I can remember where the table was, the fridge in the corner, and the TV where they watched a lot of Wheel of Fortune. The carpet was the same type of carpet you might find in an elementary school, and my grandma had one of those vacuum sweepers to clean up messes.
I walk through their home in my memories often and think about all the time I was able to spend there. The long drive from California, the hot pavement in the heat, and the cactus out front that we called our cactus family.
As I remember my grandparents, I also think about the fact that I lost them too soon. I never met my paternal grandfather, he passed a few years before I was born. My paternal grandmother passed away when I was just 4 years old so I have very little memories of her.
My maternal grandfather passed away when I was about 14 and at the same time, my maternal grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. And while she lived until I was 23 years old, I felt like I lost her much earlier than that.

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