My grandmother died at about 0500 this morning. It was only to be expected given what happened the past week at the hospital, but of course the reality of those things never hit you until they actually happen.
The family’s been sharing stories of her, so I figure I might as well share my favourite story of her with the rest of you.
Although I’ve always followed sports ever since I was a youngster, I was never much for playing them, with the exception of baseball and softball (but not Wiffleball). However, I played seventh grade basketball, and the summer before my eighth grade year, my grandmother came down to visit. She offered to play me, so we went out to the side yard, where the basketball hoop was, and played twenty-one. Granted, we weren’t playing all that physically (she was well into her seventies at this point), but I still gave it my all with her. And you know what? She whooped my ass. I think the final score was 21-6 or something. I never did go back to another basketball team after that.