When I was a kid, going to Grandma's meant I'd spend that Sunday morning at her church. Before it was my own home church, it was still my church by extension. I was the only grandkid for about ten years, and, although I've loved having cousins and watching them grow, I still treasure the time I got Grandma to myself.
Going to Grandma's meant drinking from her little plastic Snow White mugs at every meal. Going to Grandma's meant, no matter what cereal was my current favorite at home, I'd have a whole new selection (but I chose Pops at least 90% of the time). Going to Grandma's meant raiding her craft drawer. I'm not sure exactly how she stocked it, because I don't remember anything ever running out, but all of the supplies always seemed like they could have been last used when my mom was a kid. Most exciting, going to Grandma's on holidays meant hanging out with our family and enjoying meals together.
For a little while, going to Grandma's meant getting to work. When my grandparents moved across the street from the church, the whole family pitched in to get the house ready for them. In case anyone was curious, this is where my hatred of peeling wallpaper began. Right there in her living room. But, the most important thing a that time was that going to Grandma's meant helping Grandpa, so, whatever jobs needed to be done, got done.
After they put in a pool, which I was convinced was a figment of Grandpa's imagination until I actually saw a hole in the ground, going to Grandma's meant sunshine and phone calls to see if any other family members were joining us. Going to Grandma's meant impromptu picnics by the pool. I was literally in the pool when the cordless phone rang on the patio, and someone shouted to us that my cousin Elias had been born!
When we lost Grandpa, and for a while after, going to Grandma's meant supporting the woman who had spent her life supporting us. Sometimes, it meant that, instead of going to Grandma's, Grandma came to us. Even as a teenager, that was pretty cool, because I didn't even have to leave home to get The Grandma Treatment (emphasis on "treat").
When I had my own kids, going to Grandma's had to be clarified: my Grandma or their Grandma? Spoiler alert: there was no wrong answer to that question. My kids have no first cousins, so my younger cousins filled the gap. For them, going to Grandma's either meant being spoiled as the only grandkids or getting to play with cousins.
One summer, going to Grandma's meant providing medical care, and I was blessed to be able to help with that. During those days, going to Grandma's meant stopping at Reiff's for pool snacks, watching the kids outside, and helping Grandma inside. It also meant watching lots of Gameshow Network and playing along with Grandma, especially to America Says.
Eventually, going to Grandma's meant picking her up from Ephrata Manor. I suspect that, immediately upon move-in, she was the resident who went on the most outings with family. Sometimes we'd argue over who got to pick her up or drop her off.
Finally, going to Grandma's meant getting in those last few precious moments together--and we made use of that time! During her whole time on Hospice care, I don't think I ever visited her alone for a whole visit--someone from the family was with her so often, including until the end.
If you havent' caught on by now, going to Grandma's always meant family. Her legacy is so many things, but I am so blessed to be a part of her living legacy: her family. She taught us how to be a good family, and we all do our best to keep her legacy alive in our own families now.
