DoAnn

Well, my friends, I did indeed abandon you for a week.  With a sad reason.  My precious precious Grandmother, my dad's mom, passed away last Saturday, and I didn't even have the heart to write.  I've been in survival mode for the past week, and I know it's about time to snap out of it...  But I'm truly heartbroken because Grandma was my last link to my dad, and if he couldn't hold my Milo Jay, I was determined that she would.  For some reason I was positive she would be okay, just for that reason.  My only comfort is how many times my cousins reminded her that Milo's middle name was Jay after my dad, and how happy she was every time they talked about it.

My grandma, known as DoAnn, GG, Grandma Geiger, Grams, etc., was one of the kindest and most influential people I know.  Nothing could stop her, nothing could get her down.  She loved knitting (as do I), purple, and people.  She cared so much about individuals with special needs that she was the person responsible for bringing Special Olympics to Northwest Illinois, and our family grew up helping and loving these people just for her.  No one was a stranger to her.  In fact, I think that she knew just about every single person in Rockford, and I could never go anywhere without being recognized as "one of DoAnn's girls."

When my dad, her first-born son, died, she filled in the gaps for me.  I always remember seeing Grandma in the stands when I was cheering at basketball games.  She was there at every luncheon, every award ceremony, every extra event where I needed a parent.  She lived close enough for me to walk to her house, and we spent so much time with me just curled up on her sofa, while she knit away at a blanket, or a hat, or a lighthouse sweater (wink), asking me an endless stream of questions about me, the family, just about anything.  I remember going to coffee with her at Mary's Market, and how any time we were together she said, "What a wonderful little party."

Grandma also said what was on her mind, no beating around the bush.  The first time Nate met her, he was her date to a wedding that I was in.  As the husky bridesmaids filed down the aisle, she loudly remarked to him, "Well, those really are some corn-fed girls, aren't they?"  Nate had no choice but to love her, as we all did.  You never had to wonder what Grandma was thinking, and you never had to wonder if her intentions were pure and filled with nothing but love.

My siblings and I road-tripped up to Illinois for her funeral.  It was an 18-hour drive full of delirium and laughter, and I'm sure I'll have plenty to say on that another day.   But for now, I'm examining my life, wanting to make sure that I measure up now that Dad and Grandma can both keep an eye on me and see what's going on.  I feel like I should be helping more people, saying what I mean, and wearing a lot of purple.