Earlier this winter, my Grandma Joanne passed away. I’m so very thankful that I was able to visit her while she was still herself. But it didn’t make saying goodbye any easier. It was a terrible feeling, saying goodbye for good. When you leave someone, it’s usually more of a “see you later” than a “goodbye.” But this was a hard and cold goodbye. The last time I’d spend with my last-living grandmother. And I was juggling our final moments with a Southwest flight? That just doesn’t seem right.
I won’t say much more on the matter as, like a true Clark, grand displays of emotions are not my strong suit. I actually get quite uncomfortable with them, a trait I likely inherited from my dad – the man who exclaimed, “Into zee vault!” at my Grandma Mary’s interment.
So rather than remember my Grandma Joanne with sadness, I’ll share a little bit about her.
My Grandma Joanne was a wild woman – the best kind of wild. She wore bold, bright eccentric ensembles, many of which incorporated at least one species of animal print. She loved art, music and culture, and she introduced me to French and the Good Morning Vietnam soundtrack. Her trademark phrase was “fucking asshole,” a term of endearment or of condemnation, depending on the day. She was a world traveler, a fierce card player and a volunteer docent at an art museum, among many, many other things.
One summer, my sister and I stayed with her while my mom recovered from back surgery. (A smart move on my mom’s part, considering the last time she left us in my dad’s charge, my sister fed me a bottle of Benadryl.)
While we were there, my Grandma Joanne made us memorize a song and dance routine to “When the Saints Come Marching In.” It was quite an elaborate number, with parasols and everything. We performed it at a local senior center.
She told me champagne would cure my sea-sickness (it didn’t), and that Clark women are blessed with huge knockers (verdict’s still out). One of the last things she said to me was, “if any man does you wrong, I’ll come back and castrate him.”
**Cue the line of eligible bachelors**
I can’t quite put my finger on what it was about her, but she very much inspired me. Her personality was larger than life. She was hilarious – wickedly so, but a riot all the same. She was feisty, blunt and bold. She was the kind of person you’d bend over backwards to impress. Making her laugh, genuinely laugh, always felt like a huge accomplishment.
I’ll miss her very much.