I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Cinco de Mayo is the anniversary of losing my grandma. She has been gone for 14 years now. It is surreal to think of how many birthdays, ballgames, anniversaries, graduations, baptisms, births, deaths, and basic life events she has missed. I miss her every single day. She was the person we all looked to for advice, for guidance, for party planning, the one who was always in the stands watching, cheering for you (possibly in an aggressive, competitive manner). The one who wanted to spend her own birthday going to a Royal's game, and taking everyone along. The one who drug us to horse races, fishing, swimming, taught us to can foods, garden, work hard/play hard. The one who taught us that if you win, you have to earn it. Who regularly made wagers with us, and expected you to pay up if you lost. Who played cards for blood. Who could whip up a huge meal and feed everyone like it was a zero effort thing. Who baked the best pies. And helped to raise all of us. Lying was not accepted, cheating was definitely not accepted, being lazy - occasionally accepted if it was only for a few moments. She was always teaching, always working, and I don't remember a time when she wasn't involved in some project, including projects at all of our houses. You were painting? She was there with her brushes. You wanted to tear out a bunch of bushes? She was there with her new electric chainsaw. Needed a babysitter? She would do it. You just can't imagine how intertwined someone is in your life until they are gone. I wish I could call her up, ask her for advice, take her the kids ball schedules, or look up and see her at my table again. The hole can never be filled. I hope someday, by the grace of God, I can see her again.
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