Besides having the great name of Dessie, my Dad’s mom was a super cool lady, especially with her grandchildren. I remember her, me, and my younger brother being out in the yard after a serious downpour, one that created a big puddle in her yard. Tyler was tip-toeing next to the water, like a tight rope walker, staying dry until I gave him a little bump; just enough to send him face first into the deep puddle. He was mad, but Grandma was total calmness. She wasn’t happy either. Not at all. But she just gave me a look, one that said it all. Then she took care of my soaked brother.
My grandma got excited, but only at the right times. Like when she was happy or having fun or schooling me in a game of Racco. She was a rock when she needed to be; like with my Aunt Velma who had Down’s Syndrome and spent a lot of her later years living with my grandparents. My Aunt Velma was sweet and fun, but she also needed extra attention and my grandma was so great to/with her. I need more of that. When my plumber has an avoidable leak, or a mason has to rebuild a wall or chimney that’s not plumb, or one of my subcontractors blows me off for another client, I need to remember my grandma. I need to keep calm and have patience.