Grandma B. died on Monday. That's Frog's grandma. She the only grandma I had that was coherent during my lifetime, and for the last 12 years, she was the only grandma I had - period.

She was a class act and therefore, A. and I went out to celebrate her life last night. We toasted to Grandma and I told him a little bit about her. How she embraced me like family, although we weren't blood related. How hard it was for her when Grandpa died - was it almost 10 years ago? - and how brave she was to build a whole new life without him.

She was a regal matriarch of a sprawling family and a wonderful painter - or so I've been told as I have never actually seen one of her paintings. That small fact didn't stop me from telling her how much Frogs would like one, at a wedding last September.

She gave a painting to Frogs last month, for Christmas. That made me smile. She was good like that. She listened, and she remembered.

When I heard about that gift today, I stopped at my computer with my head tilted, and I listened.

I could hear her voice saying my name with a smile at Thanksgiving, and I imagined her there with Grandpa, reunited. I think I saw her in my head happier than I had ever seen her here on this earth.

And I remembered.

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