Thoughts on the Loss of My Grandma
My maternal grandmother, Geraldine Youcha, died in her sleep this morning. I am 36 years old, and have enjoyed umpteen moments with her throughout my entire life, including my wedding (she and my grandfather walked me down the aisle) and the birth of my two children. And yet, incredibly, I feel utterly unprepared for this, and somehow robbed. I know, these things are not unusual in the least. But my grandmother was entirely unusual. She was not a milk-and-cookies, teddy bears and snuggles kind of woman. Though she did love sweets (especially ice cream, sour cherry strudel from Andre's Cafe on the Upper East Side, and scones with proper English tea), and kept a nice collection of stuffed animals (especially dogs), and her hugs were warm, she was no June Cleaver. My grandma graduated from Northwestern University with a degree in journalism. She wrote many books and articles throughout her life, including two of some renown: Children of Alcoholism and Minding the Childre n: A H...