Let me tell you about my grandmother

Photo of my grandmother at Creighton's switchboard where I also worked as a teenager.

I want to tell you about my grandmother, Grandma Clare.

She passed away two days ago, and since I can't be with my family in Omaha, I can't think of anything else to do other than write about her.

If you look up Irish Catholic Democrat in the dictionary, you will see Clare Harris. I have heard so many stories about her finishing work at Omaha's Chamber of Commerce and going to volunteer for Bobby Kennedy's campaign at night while raising three children. And while that is such a great portrait of who she was, that is not the Clare Harris I knew.

I knew Grandma Clare. I remember when Abby and I would sleep over at her and Grandpa John's apartment out west. We would shove her two fluffy armchairs together into a little nest and watch scary movies and eat candy from her candy dish.

As I got older, so did she. She moved from that apartment to a retirement home and then to a nursing home. And sometimes it would take a minute for her to recognize me. That was my own fault, always changing my hair and adding tattoos and changing my style. But once she did recognize me, her mind was clear and we could talk like we always did.

And that is what was so special about her. She would allow me to talk and talk and talk. And when I got myself into another love tragedy, she would listen. And when I couldn't decide where to go to school or what to do after graduation, she would listen. And she would remember! Until the last time I saw her she would ask me about ex-boyfriends or friends she met from high school.

She was able to have a special relationship with each of her children and grandchildren. In my life, I know that family is the most important thing - above travel and work. And I must get that from her, because all she did as she got older was keep up with family. If we needed to know what kind of car Kyle just got, or what the cousins in Vegas were up to, she would know.

Through high school and college, I was blessed to get to spend a lot of alone time with her. We would go on our "little picnics," dining in the parking lot of Wendy's and talking. And she was very Socratic at these Grandmother-granddaughter meals. She would never tell me what to do; she would always say, "I don't know. What do you think you should do?" And she promised never to tell my parents what I was talking about, although I'm not sure if she did or not!

She had a way of making us all feel special. Whenever I would visit I would be greeted with a, "Oh Molly! I've missed you!" No matter if I was coming from 60th Street or from Thailand. 

After all of her health problems and after I moved abroad, every time I saw her I felt lucky that I got to be with her one more time. And while I still wish I got to be with her just one more time, I know she is better now not to be in pain, not to be afraid, not to be old or confused. She is perfect now and I can't wait to see her again someday.

Still, I will miss her a lot, and going back to Omaha next time, the city will feel little bit emptier and the love I feel in Omaha will be a little bit less. So I hope you're still with me Grandma Clare, watching me grow up with both Grandpa Johns, and I hope I am making you laugh because you always had such a great laugh and great smile.

Photo of me saying hi to my grandmother in front of the Taj Mahal.

I was going to send this to her as a postcard but missed my chance.