Dad died six months ago today.

The 6-month mark…it’s a milestone, really. Six haircuts, six mortgage payments, six issues of This Old House have occurred in the time since we said goodbye, proving that time marches on, and so do we.  You alternate between I can’t believe it’s only been 6 months! and I can’t believe it’s already been 6 months! when well-meaning inquiries come your way.  It’s kind of like a practice round for the 1-year anniversary, I imagine.

Whatever significance this semi-anniversary holds, it feels like it should be acknowledged somehow. It seems like a good day to reflect and celebrate and hug people who are feeling the same way.

And so it is that I find myself in Dad’s hometown today, surrounded by some of the people I love the most, to say goodbye to his mom.

Grandma Marlene. The kindest, gentlest, most resilient and selfless soul I’ve ever known. She listened and smiled with her eyes, loved the Church Lady skit on SNL, and had an endless supply of Schwann’s drumsticks and Avon nail polish.  Because of her, I love coffee cups, peanut butter toast and knick-knacks on my windowsill.

When I was a teenager, and she could see that Dad and I weren’t seeing eye to eye, she’d whisper advice for dealing with him.  Oh, that Jeffrey David, she called him. His antics were nothing new to her.

She showed me the power of personal faith, especially in the face of loss & adversity, of which she had more than her fair share.

Did I mention her shrimp salad? On point.

Viv & Suz are here with me, and how I wish their Grandpa Jeff could be here too,  to tell them about his mom. Muzz, he called her. But he’s not. So Mom and Ryan and I have the honor of sharing these stories & memories with them, with the help of our aunts (pronounced AWNTS up here) and cousins, who all adored this saint of a woman.

Also, Grandpa gets to see his mom again, says Suzanne.

And I have to say, that’s a pretty sweet consolation prize.