Apparently, you can die of a broken heart

because Grandpa Jim died two days ago, one week after my grandma died on January 13th. He was my gradma's stepfather (so my great-grandfather), and he was old and sort of falling apart, but definitely not sick. But my grandma was his world. He had moved out to Sacramento from Tucson with her when she moved to be with her son (my uncle) this November. In Arizona, he had been in a nursing home but my grandma was over there often because she would take care of all his finances and go shopping for him and everything.

I remember this story, which makes me laugh: When I was visiting Arizona this summer, Nanny came over to my mom's apartment to ask if I would come with her to Grandpa Jim's. She had gone to Cosco and had a bunch of things to take to him. In particular, she needed my young, strong arms to take up the box of Tide to his room. "It is *very* heavy," she warned me, "a hundred pounds." "A hundred pounds, Nanny?! Are you sure??" "That's what the box says." (You have to imagine her talking in her slight southern drawl, like the way she said 'ferther' just that way.) So I rode with her to Grandpa Jim's, rolled up my sleeves under the Arizona sun, opened the trunk and looked for the box of laundry detergent. Sure enough, there it was, a big 100 right there sittin' on the label. And right there under the '100', in the same bold print was written LOADS. Yes yes, a big ol' cosco box of Tide -- 100 loads! I couldn't help laughing as I picked up all 15 or so pounds, and showed Nanny the label. I think she was embarrassed, but I loved her for it.

Oh Nanny, I really miss you.

I miss the way you talked, I miss the way you smelled. I miss the way you told stories. I miss the way you always had on pink nailpolish. I miss the way you loved me.

Nanny, you were supposed to meet my husband. How can I marry without you being there? How can I know if somebody is right unless you meet him and call him sweetheart that way you do? You were supposed to crochet baby blankets for my children -- I could never do it like you.

I know Grandpa Jim died of a broken heart because he had no reason to live without you, Nanny. But here the world still goes on. God, help me to remember her and to teach my own children to crochet and cook chili and wear pink polish on our nails. I don't take off the necklace you gave me, Nanny.