My Grandmother died a few weeks ago. 
While on the airplane, I jotted down a few of my memories of her.
When I think of Grandma I think of summers in Oregon. Sleeping in her “hobby” room that was stacked with paintings and sewing projects and the lovely orchids she propagated. I remember her handmade (and handpicked)
berry pies, learning to sew, toodling around in her yellow Gremlin which in my young mind was the coolest car ever!
I remember her bright red hair and pretty smile. She could name every Oregon wildflower that grew by the side of the road, and I tested her often on this as we drove to golf tournaments in Coos Bay, Bend or Klamath Falls.