Grandma Chicken

A couple weeks ago I lost my Grandma Chicken. Danny and I had just finished dinner when I got the call from my dad that the she was in the hospital, and not doing well. Although my Grandma has had different health issues for some time, this came as a huge surprise. I was already planning on flying down in a week or two for a major surgery she was supposed to have, but for some reason or another, a very simple surgery that was only supposed to take a couple hours, had turned into a 2 day hospital stay, and her body was not responding well.

Because we live in a small town, there were no flights leaving that night. So Danny packed up the car, I finished creating the flowers that needed to be mailed over the next couple of days, and we were on the road in less than 2 hours from my dad's call.

But it wasn't enough. Five hours into the 16 hour drive, my dad called again to say that my Grandma Chicken had not made it. I don't know if I've ever felt more helpless. I sat in the passenger seat crying, sad that I was not able to say goodbye, and missing the woman who'd meant to so much to me. Danny tried comforting me by driving as fast he could and holding my hand.

She was full of joy, and love, and constant selfless acts. My brother and I were their only grandchildren so we were of course spoiled beyond belief with their love. I was as close with my Papa and Grandma Chicken as I am with my parents. Because we moved in May, I hadn't seen her in over 4 months- the longest period of time we've ever gone without seeing each other.I visited her and my Papa almost every other day growing up, and then throughout high school and college, weekly. It was only after Danny and I were married that our visits grew to every 2 weeks to a month because of our busy work schedules. Losing my Grandma Chicken has made me feel like I've lost my Papa all over again... I'm heartbroken.

My Grandma Chicken was an amazing woman (I explain why we called her Grandma Chicken here). She was born in Hiroshima, Japan and met my Papa, an American soldier, at the end of WWII. One of my favorite stories comes from this early period of their life. Although she spoke pretty good English, she still confused certain words. And when my Papa told her he was a "mapper" for the United States Army, she thought he was a mopper and was horrified to tell her family that she would be marrying a janitor. But because she loved him so much, she married him anyway. It was only after they were married that she realized he was a "mapper" and not a "mopper"- a big relief :)

My Grandma Chicken instilled a lot of Japanese culture into my upbringing. And although I am only 1/4 Japanese, it is the heritage that I identify most with. I grew up watching Japanese Sesame Street. The first instrument I learned how to play music on was the koto, and I still read my magazines from back to front.

She was an amazing cook, crafty, bargain savvy, and stylish. Her house looked like a collection of pieces from Anthropologie, even though she'd never been in the store. They were just pieces she'd picked up along the way, an advantage of being a traveling army wife.

She was generous, and thoughtful, and funny. Always serving and bringing laughter into the house. She displayed our elementary artwork in frames along the family room wall. Never let us help with dinner or dishes. And always thanked us for calling, something I always teased her about. If I become half the woman she was, I'll count myself blessed. I miss her and my Papa so much.