This is a very long entry. I didn't plan on it being so long when I started and I don't want to edit it to make it shorter.

I had started writing an entry yesterday and had part of it written and the computer messed up. Is losing what I've been writing in here and having to redo it a sign that I should just write it all in wordpad or msworks and save it every other minute?? I will probably try to rewrite what I wrote later. It was one of my opinions on current headlines entries.

I meant to write an entry yesterday. It seems that almost every month I miss one day or on the rare occasion more. Last month it was the first day in March, this time it's the second day in April. I guess I should make alternate plans for the 3rd day in May.

Yesterday was the 4 year anniversary of the death of my adopted grandmother. She became my adopted grandmother because we moved next door to her when I was 2 or 3. She never had any children or grandchildren, all but one of my grandparents was dead and the only biological grandmother I remembered at all died when I was 7. I didn't know that grandmother very well though. My adopted grandmother was 80 when she died and it hardly feels like 4 years since she died. My husband and I got some flowers and took them to her grave. We put them in the little pot that sits between her grave and her husband's. I never knew her husband and what I know about him I found out from her. We try to go to her grave at least a couple times a year. Usually my husband sits in the car and I'll say a few words to her. I didn't say anything to her yesterday. It just didn't feel right. Nothing against my husband but I felt a little self conscious talking to her grave with anyone else within hearing range. Although I preferred having my husband there with me yesterday. He really liked her and he always comforts me when I get upset about her or about anything really.

I wish she was still alive. She was a sweet woman and I always tell people that if heaven exists, God will personally beg her to come to it.

I remember the first time I visited her grave. It was just after she had died and one of her brothers was getting ready to auction off all of her belongings to the highest bidder only 2 weeks after she died. He was refusing to let anyone have anything of hers. He said "It'll be in the auction, bid on it." He even told his own family this too. Well except his wife who he let take whatever she wanted. Anyways, not long after she died I went to where she had lived. I remembered where she had kept a spare key and I got it and went inside.

It was so weird being inside that house and knowing she'd never be in it again. Knowing that I'd never be able to come over and see her inside it and greeting me as I walked in. It was the first time I had been in there since before she died. It was so quiet. The furniture was all in place the way she had left it. The refridgerator was still stocked of her favorite drinks and foods. Her insulin she took every day was right in the side of the door as it always had been. The hallway echoed as it always had whenever someone walked thru it. Her spare bedroom was filled with collectable items. Such as coca cola merchandise they sold years ago and that you'd never find in stores today. Stuffed animals in the closet and on the bed. A couple pictures hung up. The bathroom had an old scale she had bought years ago. I used to get on it while I was growing up and she'd keep tabs of how much I was gaining or losing over the years. There was a washer and dryer in the bathroom that hadn't been in there very long. Her bedroom was just the way she had always kept it.

The bed was in the middle with one window directly above the headboard, another window to the right side against a wall and another one straight across from the bed. The bathroom door was in one of the bedroom walls. Little things she had collected like knickknacks were neatly placed. A small black and white tv she kept in there but hadn't used in ages. Her make up counter was on top of a dresser under one of the windows. She had so many cosmetic items. Mostly powder, perfume and hair spray. There were also a couple hairnets she'd use. Some of the perfume had barely been used. There were two cans of hairspray. One nearly full and the other nearly empty.

I didn't want her belongings that she cherished for so long being sold off to the highest bidder. They didn't know this woman. They didn't spend years knowing her. They didn't love her. She wasn't their "granny". They didn't cry over her death. These items had no sentimental value at all to these people. Most of them were going to be strangers who were going to be coming in to try to score a good deal. I knew I couldn't do anything to stop the auction but I figured I could take a few things that no one else would really miss or want.

I made several trips back and forth between her house and our car. I got some knickknacks, some arts and crafts she had made, stuffed animals that I and a friend of mine had given her, a few stuffed animals that I hadn't given her but had really liked, an old bible that she had given to her husband decades ago and used herself up until she got sick, her make up and perfume, and a framed picture of her. It was a professional picture that was taken a few years before. It was the only professional picture of her ever taken. Now what would these things mean to some stranger who just happened to catch the ad about the auction?? Absolutely nothing. I kept every one of those items except one of the stuffed animals. The stuffed animal my friend gave her, I gave it back to her. She also cared very much for her.

On the way home however I stopped at the cemetary. I took one of the bottles of the perfume she had. It was nearly full. I got out of the car and walked over to her grave. I said a few words and I opened the perfume bottle and I poured the perfume over the spot she was buried. She wore perfume a lot and I thought this way her perfume would be with her forever.

To show how much that stuff I took of hers meant to any of her relatives..none of them ever asked about it. I'm not even sure they noticed it was gone. My mother mentioned the picture and I told her I had it and I wasn't giving it up. I love that picture. I still have all of that stuff. If someone offered me a million dollars for all of it I'd say forget it. The most personal item I think though is the bible. She gave that to her husband so many years ago. Before my parents were even born she gave it to him. She wrote his name in it and hers and had dated it. After he died she kept it and used it every single day. She never got another bible. Even when her eyes were getting weaker and the words seemed to be getting harder to read she didn't get a new one. She just got a magnifying glass and used it to help her read it.

I miss that woman every day. She was so caring and sweet. She didn't have it in her to hate anyone or anything. She was the closest thing I had to a grandmother. Sure I got upset with her a few times. Everyone upsets you at least once. But her caring and goodness of her personality overshadowed the times when I was upset with her. I feel she was the FIRST person who really cared about me who didn't have to.

I don't want to forget her. I try so hard to remind myself not to forget anything about her. Like: her voice and how sweet she was. How when she made cookies they always came out square shaped. The faces she would make while on the phone if the other person on the other end was talking a lot. The talks her and me would have on her porch. The way we used to teasingly debate about who my cat loved more. Her or me. She spoiled my cat almost as much as I did. I remember all the times going to church with her and always sitting next to her on one side and my mother on the other. I tried teaching her how to play cards and each time I tried I failed. Every week when we took her to the grocery store she'd open up her purse and give me a dollar bill. Every time my mother would be working all night and my father would be out to a ball game I'd either stay with her for the evening or she'd call every hour on the other hour until my father got home, just to make sure I was okay. Even if she had to stay up way passed her usual time for going to bed she would do it. She used to always take care of my cat when we went out of town and would refuse to take any money for it. She'd even sit with my cat for a little while each night so he wouldn't have to be alone in a dark empty house for a long time each night. She went to a play I was in, she went to my wedding, she was at all of my birthday parties. I remember walking her over from her house to my parents' car and then walk her back when we'd take her places. Sometimes I was a bit of a pain and I can admit that. I regret "MOST" of those times.

All those memories seem so long ago sometimes. They seem even longer when I realize I'll never be able to make anymore memories with her in them.

She was 80 years, 6 months, and 5 days and in my opinion she died too young.