Rosie's granddaughter

All dogs gravitated to her and stuck by her side.

My grandmother, Gram, aka Gramma Rosie, aka GRose, would have been 105 on Tuesday. The significance of that is hitting me harder than her 100th birthday did. It’s the realization that every passing year is further and further from an age that she ever could have lived.

When I was a kid, Gramma Rose was a manager at a cousin’s local grocery store. I used to sit at her desk while my mom was checking out and let me tell you, I felt like hot shit. People would come up to me and be like, “You’re Rosie’s granddaughter, aren’t ya.” It was the closest I’ll ever come to being a nepo baby. If you grow up in a small town, having a family member everyone knows feels like being out with a celebrity. When she passed away in 2017, it hit me that my gram outlived most people she knew.

I miss her so much, but specifically, I miss the version of her from when I was 10. I feel weird being specific, but if you’ve had to watch a family member go through a slow decline, you’ll know what I mean. I don’t think I fully processed her death at the time because she had been sick for so long and I thought I had made my peace before she passed. Grief doesn’t work like that.

That year was also her surprise 75th birthday. After she died, I wrote a little remembrance for The Lives They Loved series and we used this photo from the party.

Gram surrounded by some of her grandkids, great-grandkids, nieces, and nephews, including me, that nerd on the right.

Gram had this funny, ornery, stubborn side that I catch in myself sometimes. We both loved to read. All dogs gravitated to her and stuck by her side. But there are so many aspects of her life that I’ll never understand. Rosie was a mother of five, grandmother of many more, a farmer’s wife, a late-in-life driver. And many parts of my life would be completely foreign to her too.

The impossible task of living after someone dies means to keep evolving while they’re frozen in time. It’s trying to measure different seasons of clothes on a mannequin that stays the same.

I’ve been wondering what she would think about my life now. I don’t think she ever traveled further north than New York, much less New England. She’d probably wish I was closer to family. Still, I think even if she didn’t understand, she’d be proud. I’m Rosie’s granddaughter, you know.

As promised, a check-in on #the100dayproject.¹ This one is a good reminder to lighten up.

I’m still working on incorporating this activity into my daily routine. Ideally, I’d like to draw before work but my morning time management is not great, and that’s being generous. So, we’ll see.

Also, it’s hard to draw little kids! I’m so used to drawing adults in life drawing that it’s easy to age-up accidentally. Hope to improve— 94 days to go! Follow along here.

I drew this on Tuesday and I’m STILL laughing

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1. I need to note that I feel absolutely stupid using a hashtag when the hashtag can’t be clicked on, even if the hashtag is part of an official name. That’s all.