Isn’t it funny how we start using halves again when people reach a certain age, just as we do when we’re children?

My last living grandparent, Grandma C., (this one – wasn’t she gorgeous?) passed away this week at the tender age of ninety eight and a half. She lived through the depression, the early death of her husband, raising four successful children, farming alone, and so incredibly much more. I’ve written a little something to read at her funeral, and wanted to share it here, slightly edited. I’ll be reading it from my PEI cousins, my brother and myself, who collaborated on the memories. And I’ll be saying “we” rather than “I.”

When I think of Grandma, I think of:

Kindness. Grandma never said a bad word about anyone. Even when they deserved it.

Campfires. I have great memories of roasting marshmallows in the firepit behind the house at the farm with my cousins each summer.

Eating. If it wasn’t breakfast, lunch or supper time, it was coffee time…which meant more food. There was barely time to clean up one meal before she and Auntie Dot were preparing the next one. I often make recipes that have been handed down from Grandma to my mom & now to me, and good food always reminds me of Grandma. We live near some famous corn producers and my Dad used to say that “That corn is good, but it doesn’t even come close to “Grandma corn!” Grandma used to let us kids run free through her garden picking at whatever we wanted. Whenever we were at the farm, she always took us out with her when she needed to harvest something or do anything in the garden, knowing full well we’d probably just sit and eat & be more of a hindrance than a help, but she was cool with that. She was great at just letting us be kids, and there was no better place than Grandma’s farm to be a kid.

Grandma loved food her whole life. I remember her always taking half of a sweet saying “I’ll just have half.” It was just a few minutes later when she’d go back for the other half and say “I’ll just have half.” At our house, that’s known as the “Grandma dessert.”

Making doughnuts. Grandma made doughnuts each summer with my PEI cousins and I. She was a patient and kind teacher who never lost her cool no matter how much of a mess we made. For what would have been Grandma’s 99th birthday later this year, my family is going to make doughnuts in her honour.

Shucking peas and corn on her verandah. We’d sit out there for hours and shuck corn for dinner or shuck peas just to eat. No peas in the world can compare to the peas from Grandma’s garden. Grandma was the only person I ever heard say the word “verandah” instead of deck or porch.

Her love for animals. I remember going to feed the cats in the hen house with the hot porridge Grandma used to make for them every day. She had this sound that only she could make…”Heeeeer pussy pussy pussy cat. Heeeeere kittykittykittykitty… and they’d all come out from their hiding places for breakfast. We also have wonderful memories of playing with and riding horses at the farm. My PEI cousin Tara, in particular, has a lifelong love of horses that all started at Grandma’s farm.

Feeling grown up. I remember riding motorbikes and driving the garden tractor around the farmyard long before we were legal to drive anywhere else.

Capturing memories. Grandma was often found behind the lens of a camera and took thousands of pictures over the course of her life. She painstakingly organized & numbered them and printed copies for anyone who wanted them. Several of us are camera obsessed (especially Tara and I) and credit that obsession to Grandma. We loved watching her photo slideshows every summer at the farm.

The C. sneeze. We always sneeze in threes!

The C. giggle fit. Something doesn’t really have to be that funny to set a C. into an uncontrollable laughing fit. Often when it’s least appropriate.
Whenever one of us does something a little “funny,” we always say with a smile “It’s Grandma C’s fault” and I hope we’ll continue to blame all of our idiosyncrasies on her, because there are no genes I’d rather have and no better legacy than love and laughter.

We love you Grandma, and we’ll miss you terribly. Give my Dad a hug for me!

Call me crazy, but I’m taking two kids and two dogs to a hotel for her funeral. She would have loved that.