Opal Mae Ball.

Whenever I think of my dad's mom, I think of Opal Mae Ball. This was her maiden name and as a kid it cracked me up. Who names their kid "Opal Mae Ball" as in "Opal may ball," sure- why not? Ball away. Anyway, it always made me laugh and I'm not sure if this was just an internal joke I had with myself or if any other members of my family found this humorous but it's something that I always think of when I think of my grandma, even though she changed her name when she married my grandpa to Baker. Opal Mae Baker just didn't have quite the luster in my childhood mind.

I don't believe I was ever as close to to my grandma as some of my cousins probably were, or maybe even as close to her as my brother was, but I do have fond memories of her. I remember her house and the smells of her house- grandma's infamous rolls that still make my mouth water to this day, the way she'd make me scrambled eggs and an orange at her house in Denison, Iowa when my mom would sleep in and my dad was out golfing, the way her basement that was full of knicks and knacks that I could browse through for hours, pictures galore that she'd explain of "who was who",  playing cards with her, golfing with her from the time I was old enough to hold a club to the time I was in college..and even later than that as she played golf until the very end. I remember that she was always very witty and had something funny to say. She was, in the simplest way I can describe it, someone who lived life the way she wanted to and certainly a firecracker of a lady. She was no nonsense and had a sense of humor about her which are two valuable lessons that I will remember about her.

My grandma was the most healthy, really, out of my three remaining living grandparents. She was a little forgetful (and apparently becoming more and more forgetful) but a week before she died, she was out on the golf course with my dad. Playing. At 93 years old. Then, abruptly, true to form almost, she decided that was that. Despite appearing as healthy and as trim as ever, with just a few memory lapses, she had a stroke followed by a heart attack. She battled the repercussions for a week and again, true to form, was as feisty as ever fighting the doctors and nurses all the way until she succumbed to this world on April 12, 2012 in her sleep. She was 93 years old. I'm surprised that she passed. I'm not particularly overcome with sadness, as I do have fond memories of her and she lived a long, good and full life. I believe that her passing was just another essence of how she lived her life- it was time to die, so she died. She made up her mind to do it, and done (perhaps this is where I inherited some of my stubbornness- some traits are truly nurture, not nature).

I do know this: there will be a space missing where she once was in family gatherings. It simply won't quite be the same family. The circle of life continues to amaze and enthrall me. A life passes quietly and peacefully and another is about to be born. I would hope that we could all live a long and full life like my grandmother did. At the end of it all as we slip out, I would hope that we have the knowledge and peace that things will carry on without us...in a way that honors our memory and respects who we once were and everything we did in the life that we lived. That despite our absence, our loved ones lives move on with all of the fond memories at the core that make us who we are.   I think my grandma had accepted that and so, her duty was done. I'm sure she is in a much better place now- probably with a golf club in hand. And all of us? We are better in one way or another for having known her.