Xenia Kathryn

Me and my two "Josephines", a mere 90 years difference in age.

My sweet grandma aka "Grandjo" fell asleep in the Lord yesterday afternoon. I got to see her an hour before she passed... how glad I am that her suffering is relieved.

She was a big part of my life. As early as I can remember, Saturday mornings were always guaranteed to be graced with a phone call from Grandjo. Even as a really small child in Georgia, miles away from my grandparents in "Or-ry-gun" (as the southern folk refer to it), Grandjo was a very real presence in my life, via phone calls and visits and birthday cards.

When my family moved to Oregon in 1991, we were able to see Grandjo and Gator more frequently, which careted in me a wealth of warm memories that I'll always treasure. When you're a child, you assume that life will always remain as it is. I, for one, did not realize that the long, summer days spent at their sweet little home in Southeast Portland would one day cease. Fresh corn on the cob, sun-ripened raspberries, tart applesauce. Swining on their hammock under the apple tree. My inherited Swedish sweet tooth could be easily satisfied with a trip to Grandjo's kitchen, where Eskimo Pies (aka "Frog Legs"), homemade rice krispy treats, gum drops, oatmeal cookies and root beer or 7up abounded. Oh, and Coffee Nips. Can't forget those! Baby steps towards my coffee addiction, and I have sweet Grandjo to thank! hehehe.

Needless to say, the sweets subsided as my grandparents got older. So, too, did their activity, which led them to a new home; an apartment in a Active retirement community. A more abbreviated version of their previous home, but lacking not a bit in personality and coziness.

It was at this apartment that my Grandpa Gator passed away, just two years ago. I still remember his slow but sweet parting; his patient forbearance over the course of several months, as his body quietly shut down. How I miss him.

After he passed away, Grandjo came to live with my parents in their home on the west side of Portland. Because of this, my family and I were able to see Grandjo on a regular basis, at least once a week. Vasi got to know Grandjo really well, and Grandjo was always overjoyed to see her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Vasi and her cousins loved to run down the long hallway of my parents' house and visit Grandjo's "studio apartment" where they would sneak peanut butter crackers and stare at her tiny Christmas tree during the holiday season. Grandjo also had a beautiful little porcelain baby doll that "slept" in a basket on her bed, and Vasi and Kirsten both loved to sit and cradle the delicate baby, with Grandjo's gracious permission.

And after years and years of vocalizing her disdain for dogs and cats, Grandjo even managed to befriend Joey, my parents' dog. "You're my best friend, Joey," she'd say, tossing him bits of crumbs from her meals each time she sat down to eat.

I could go on and on about Grandjo and the way she shined in this world. The way her bright, beautiful smile blessed everyone she encountered. The ways she expressed her love for her family and friends. How spunky and funny she was.


My memories of her will live forever, they are a part of me. I knew that she prayed for me every day by name (as she did all of her 16 grandchildren!). I know there were times when I took for granted how blessed I was to have a grandma like her. Growing up, I figured everyone had such a fairytale grandma as mine, one who crocheted and sewed and sent presents and cards and was kind and loving and had a great sense of humor.

I will miss her so much. I will miss her voice, her eyes and he rmega-watt smile. I'm thankful to have had her in my life, and to have my own little "Josephine" (that's Vasi's middle name, in case you were wondering). May her memory be eternal!