Grandmother names

I found out the other day that my kids were discussing what I needed to be called once I became a grandmother. Pretty sure that isn't going to happen anytime soon, but with the oldest daughter getting married soon it must have been on their minds.

I wanted my kids to call their grandmothers: Grandmother or Grandma
That's what we had called ours: Grandma Sapp and Grandma Killian
It worked for me and my siblings and cousins.

Our oldest daughter had other ideas. She insisted that one of her grandmothers be called Eyetsee.
She also called her best friend at the time Eyetsee.
It finally morphed into Icee and Hannah got called Hannah.
I like the uniqueness of Icee now, but it has to be explained a lot.

My mother chose to be called Grammy and it stuck. Plus you don't argue with my mom.

There is actually a site for choosing your Grandmother name. I was shocked, though I know not why. There are pictures of nativity scenes made out of frogs. Why should anything after that shock me?

I took a little quiz to find out which grandmother name is right for me. Not really sure I can trust it though. It said I was a sophisticated intellectual and that I have my own style that is impossible for others to imitate. If truth be told, I don't think there is anyone out there that wants to imitate my style. And I can hear my family laughing over the sophisticated intellectual part. Loudly. Hugh guffaws.

It said a good grandmother moniker for me would be Nana or Bebe. Bebe? Really? Isn't that a clothing store?

Death is final

Death is final and when I say that I mean the life here on earth is forever gone. It's permanent. As in forever more.

The only thing that keeps me from going insane is knowing that Grandmother is a beautiful soul in an earthly shell and the second the shell shuts down she will be with her Father. The one that she has loved and faithfully followed always. It will be beyond glorious, nothing our small minds can even begin to imagine. And she will be perfect and perfectly content.

Tonight, or I guess I should say this morning my tears have finally started flowing in a way that doesn't hint of a let up anytime soon. I've cried on and off since Friday morning, but quickly fended them off.

Not now.

Now I'm in pain thinking of the things that will never be again.
The really bland cookies she makes. Not sure what she does to them, but we eat them all up anyway.
Always being able to count on the ingredients for a Dr. Pepper Float to be on hand.
The best scrambled eggs in the world.
Hugs at the front door.
Her ability to talk for 30 minutes without having to stop to take a breath.
"Sit down here and talk to me" as she pats the couch cushion. And then not being able to get a word in edgewise.
Her way of pronouncing alcohol "alkeyhall" and tacos "tacas".
Her clothes hanging on the line.
Knowing that she starts her days praying for every single one of us.

In those ways death is very final. The day to day things. The things with skin on them. Those will be gone. Forever. And I don't like it one bit. That's where I am right now. Trying to come to grip with this final part. I hate it.