geraniums were never my favourite

Gramma passed away about 3:30 p.m. B.C. time today, May 29, 2008.  This picture was taken on our family vacation last summer.

This picture was taken in Prince George at her 98th birthday in October 0f 2006. Only about 1/3 of the family is present.

I wish I would have visited with her more, but circumstances what they were I didn't.  Despite being very close to that entire side of the family while my Gramma lived in Alberta, once they moved her to B.C. I had a million convenient excuses to avoid them - I had no time, no money, you name it, and successfully cut myself off from a huge beautiful part of my life.  Having my own blended family, I've done everything in my power to ensure there are no rifts, especially since I know now what didn't then - that family is family no matter what. My Uncle Adolph said, "It pisses me off that it wasn't until Kenny died we got to know you. All those wasted years..." But my father's passing gave me back the rest of the family, and despite the lost years I feel as close and loved now as ever did. 

Bertha came to Canada on a boat as a little girl, and lived in her own house with her own garden until she was 85 and her body finally began betraying her age with aches and pains and brittle bones, and full-time care was required.  For 12 of those 14 years, she oversaw the planting of the gardens at Parkland.  In 2006, she decided it was too much work for her, and so my Auntie Doris collected all her potted geraniums and relocated them to their acreage so they could be enjoyed when the seniors made their annual bus trip to Adolph and Doris's place for a summer barbecue, complete with a campfire, marshmallows, and treat bags.  Apparently last year and this year when Bertha was strolled through the gardens in her chair she complained bitterly that they had been planted all wrong.

I had brought one of the retired geraniums home with me, which bloomed in summer of 2007 but was left out too long and froze this winter.  I prefer perennials - things like marigolds and petunias and geraniums require more maintenance and though I may have inherited her crooked knobby hands, I totally missed out on the green thumb.  This spring my Mamasan took the poor dead thing and tried without success to save it; she told me on the phone today she has planted a new pink geranium in the pot for me.  Maybe Gramma, free from her aged body and able to travel between provinces again, will be able to help me not kill this one.

Her headstone has been carved with an empty fill-in-the-blank for decades, and sitting atop her husband's heart is her son Kenny.  Next door is her other son Freddie, and just around the corner is her Mom, my Great Grandma Fried.   

I love you Gramma, and when my Daddy DOES ask you to pull his finger, don't do it...