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My grandma Luzie (my moms mom) died three weeks ago today. She was 86. Today is the urn interment.

I have been thinking a lot about my grandma ever since she moved into the nursing home and even more so during the last three weeks. For me she was the quiet stable rock and the center in my moms side of the family. She had a strange and always raspy sounding voice and was a strong-willed and no-funny-business lady. In general she represents to me huge jigsaw puzzles, chocolate lentils, coffee with milk, desserts, many different types of solitaire games, plants on window sills and being able to watch TV all day long. But I also realized that she was a very different person back when I was little. I am not sure if this is true, but I think she changed a lot after my grandpa died.

When I was little she (and my grandpa) smoked. They had this ashtray with a lever in the middle of the lid which would make the lid go down and spin when you pressed it, and thus, spinning the ashes into the subjacent bowl. I loved to play with that thing. It made a pleasant sound and was interesting to watch.
I also got my favorite doll Heidi from her. The day I got her, I retreated into the corner behind the easy chairs with this doll which was almost as tall as I and spent the whole afternoon stroking the dolls eyelashes. (I think Heidi lost most of her eyelashes that afternoon...)
And it was my grandma that made me realize that Santa Clause and the Christ Child were not real. At my house Santa Clause came at Christmas. I knew that the Christ Child was kind of a Santa Clause equivalent and therefore I wasn't upset to hear from my grandma that the Christ Child would be coming in the evening. The thing that tipped me off was that she had to help. Santa Clause always came secretly and only when nobody was in the room. He would ring a bell when he left to signal that he had been there. Then, and only then, it was OK to open the door to the room with the Christmas tree. Santa Clause was even more powerful than my dad. Santa Clause could not only look through walls, he could also walk through closed doors. And of course, he certainly did not need any help to put presents under the Christmas tree! The Christ Child was supposed to be a Santa Clause equivalent and therefore I got very very suspicious when my grandma announced that she had to go into the room to help the Christ Child. But OK, maybe the Christ Child needed some help. It was, after all, a child. The thing that made me sure of that my grandma was making things up was that she said that she had spoken to the Christ Child and that we were allowed to come in now. That was simply wrong! How could you speak to the Christ Child if it came in secret? And if it did not come in secret, why didn't it just come out and tell all of us? (It probably sucks to have a child that is ruthlessly logic in its thought patterns.)
I also remember my grandma laughing a lot more from the time when I was little.

When I was older, I remember my grandma being a more quiet person.
I remember looking out of the window or going through the garden with her and enjoying looking at flowers, birds and butterflies.
I remember sitting next to her at the kitchen table where she would play a game of solitaire or sitting on the floor in front of the book shelf reading her books. She knew that I loved to read, but I think she was a little surprised that I also read her books. At one point she pointed her favorite book out to me, and when I almost finished it in one afternoon she decided to give me her only copy to keep. I still have and cherish it. It is called "Die Heilige und ihr Narr" and was written by Agnes Günther.
My grandma never really talked about "the old days" when I was little - not even when I asked. But when I was older she would sometimes - out of the blue - tell me a little about her childhood or her and grandpa, and her eyes would shine and twinkle.
And she made the best potato salad in the whole world. I am not kidding! She would only make potato salad at her birthday which always was our family gathering time. We always had the same kind of food at her birthday: potato salad, smoked pork chop, egg nog cake, raspberry-cream cake and marble cake. For me the potato salad was the best of the whole day. Unfortunately she stopped making it because it was so much work, and I never got the recipe.
My grandma was the kind of person who liked silence. Not talking was OK and I enjoyed that a lot. She liked to have guests, but she was also always happy when they left again, and she would let you know that too. ;-)
My grandma believed that the people who died could send their love to people by sending them a butterfly, a deer, a pretty bird - anything. I am not sure that I believe that, but that is not really the point. She believed it and it is a nice and comforting thought.

When I hung up clothes to dry earlier today, I was accompanied by a peacock butterfly - the first one I saw this year. Who knows, maybe she was right.