Dado

Today is the anniversary of my maternal Grandmother's death. We called her "Dado," (pronounced dad-oh) and even though the name sounds similar to "dad," she was 100% lady. My oldest brother, Robbie, named her that when he was about 2 years old and the name stuck. I never knew her as anything else. Even friends and neighbors that had known her for years referred to her as Dado.

I could write for days about her and what she meant to me, but for some reason, now that I have a little person growing inside of me, I find myself thinking about her more and more in a different way than ever before. She was so many things to so many different people, but at her core she was a true southern woman who just wanted to make those around her happy. She brought me so much joy as a child and always made me feel special. It was a gift to spend time with her because she showered me and her other grandchildren with attention. One of my favorite activities we did together was making doll hats out of Styrofoam cups. It was a simple, and probably highly toxic process: we'd melt the Styrofoam cups in the oven until the bottoms of the cups curled up like little hat brims, then we'd dig into her sewing box for scraps of ribbon, silk flowers, loose sequins, buttons, and other treasures. Each hat we'd make would be unique and I don't know what was more fun - making them with her or putting them on my dolls later to admire our handy work and creativity.

We also loved making mud-pies (out of dirt, not coffee ice cream), doing Shrinky-Dinks, playing the piano, watching "The Fall Guy," and taking outings to the 99-cent store, Fed Co, and Mc Donald's. She sewed doll clothes for all my dolls, got me hooked on cream cheese on raisin bread sandwiches and used to get mad at me when I'd say, "I have to pee."

Her pat response when I'd use a vulgar word like "pee," would be: "Tootie, that's not very lady-like. You should say 'I need to use the restroom.'"

We also had to refer to "farts" as "fanny burps," which in my opinion is way more tortuous to a little kid than just getting the short word "fart" out and over with. Fanny burp just seems to linger on the tongue. Yuck.

But now that I am going to give my own parents a grandchild of their own, I can't help but get excited over how they'll influence my own kids. I know their relationship will be special and I know they will share something far different than my relationship with them.

Grandparents are just special, and today especially I remember Dado with love and fondness. She is always a part of me and even though I wish I could have made her a great-grandmother, I know somewhere she will be looking down on me, making sure I teach my kids to speak like proper young ladies and gentlemen, and encouraging my own crafty activities with my kids. Her gentle-loving spirit calms me when I worry about the future. Somehow I just feel comforted knowing that she loved me and remembering what she was like.