Last Friday night, my last living grandparent passed away. This was my mother's mother, Irma Nothwehr. Many nice people have given me condolences, but I was not close to my grandmother. I was not close to any of my grandparents, really.
She was what you would expect for a farmer's wife. A hard worker who had a beautiful vegetable garden. But I don't remember her teaching me to sew, knit, or anything like that. I do remember her sending me into the dreaded chicken coop to get the eggs. I was already afraid of chickens and I couldn't do it. I think I exasperated her because of this.
When I was a kid, and we would go out to the farm, my older brother and my Dad would go out in the fields with my grandfather, or else they would go pheasant hunting or something like that. My mother would cook with my grandmother, or something. I don't really know what they did, but it didn't involve me, so my younger brother and I would just roam the farm together, exploring the barns, climbing on the old rusted farm equipment and playing in the corn crib.
The one thing I do remember doing with my grandmother is playing cards. We grew up playing a lot of 10 point pitch and my grandmother was usually too busy to play. However, once in a while she would join in. I do remember one time in particular, when we were playing 5 handed pitch, where one person can go it alone and win the whole game where she had a great hand and surprised us all by totally beating all of us.
So it's a going to be a strange sort of farewell at her funeral Tuesday, saying goodbye to a woman that I really didn't know.
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