Growing up, I was a spoiled kid. I had loving parents at home, and loving grandparents in Highland Park. We would visit on Saturdays, going to the 5 p.m. mass, followed by a wonderful dinner at Bakers Square. During church, we would watch grandpa collect the money and listen to my grandma belt out the church songs. We would be stuck at the church for an extra half hour because everyone wanted to catch up and talk with my grandma. After dinner we would all get to take a piece of pie back to their house, and watch a Disney movie until it was bed time. Sometimes grandma would put on Fox News before bed, and then lights out by 11. This was a monthly routine that my sisters and I always looked forward to.

Christmas Eve, Easter, and Fourth of July were known to be at grandma and grandpa’s house. Family from all around would make it just for the grilled food, the laughter, and the deviled eggs. Christmas Eve would be filled with love as the grandkids pass out all the presents out to the family. We would sing, dance, laugh, and be merry. Easter was always a fun time as spring had sprung, so we could go outside and play soccer in the yard after our annual Easter egg hunt. We would quickly open the plastic eggs, counting up all the coins and dollar bills, while we ate away our chocolate bunnies. Fourth of July was by far my favorite holiday celebrated with my grandparents. We would wake up early in the morning to make the trip down to Highland Park so we could decorate our bikes and wagon. The wagon was easily our main source of transportation when we were little, until we learned how to ride our little bikes. Grandma and grandpa would be waiting for us, prepared with the decorations and the tape so that we could walk through the parade with pride.

My grandparents were my biggest supporters in everything that I did. During my softball games they were the pair that sat behind the dugout, cheering me on whether I was on the mound or in the batter’s box. I could always hear “Let’s go Cait!” from behind the dugout, and would always point them out as the old people behind home plate. They became a staple for my afternoon games as they had trouble driving at night, so they could not stick around for the late night games. If there was ever a chance that they could go, they were there. They were the people that I could call if I had a bad day and make me feel like I was on top of the world. Their undying love for me and my family was more than I could ever give to them or ever thank them for.

We lost my grandfather to Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma cancer back in 2012. My grandfather left a loving family behind, a wife of more than 50 years, two sons, and four grandchildren. I was the oldest grandchild, and watching the pain of suffering of everyone in our family was heart breaking. After the wake and the funeral, I realized that my two favorite people in the world are not going to be around forever, and that taking my grandma for granted would not be acceptable. From that moment on my grandma became my best friend.

We all grieved, all in different ways. My grandma and I often found ourselves going through pictures, and she would tell me every story from every picture I found, even if she had told the story before. She was one of the best storytellers, putting so much detail and emotion into every story it was like the picture came to life. I began to learn a lot more about my grandma and even my grandpa through these stories, like how stubborn both of my grandparents were. I also learned that they both hated their dalmatian, Wallie, and to this day I have only seen one photo of that dog and it has been lost. My grandma was huge into our genealogy, making me aware of how important family connections are, and that their lives make us who we are today. My grandma was a hoarder, keeping everything from church bulletins to taxes that were more than 30 years old. It was amazing to see these old documents, but when attempting to organize her house it was a little frustrating to try and understand her organization pattern. My grandma drove me absolutely crazy, but I still loved her.

I love her for so many reasons. I love her for her strength and dignity through her husband’s death and funeral. I love her for being my rock through all the hard times I had in high school. I love her for all the games she cheered me on and for always looking at my online softball profiles to see how I am doing. I love her for the late nights eating ice cream and watching Cowboy and Indian movies. I love her for the long talks about politics and recent events. I love her for the funny stories from her childhood and adventures with my grandfather. I love her for being stubborn and running away from her nurses because she hated the medication. I love her for hiding in the shower because she hated the medication. I love her for fighting for her sons and her grandchildren. I love her for loving me until her very last breath.

It has been seven months since we lost her. Time does heal the deepest cuts, but I still miss my best friend every single day. This softball season will be the first games without either one of my grandparents, yet I know I will still hear them cheering me on from behind the plate. I still feel obligated to change the flag outside their house for the holidays and seasons. I still have the urge to call her and tell her about how much fun I had at a party, or the cool circuit board I just wired for my electrical engineering class. There are good days and there are bad days. The bad days come in waves and can leave me paralyzed, missing the sound of her voice and the feeling of her fragile hand in mine. So many memories flood back when I walk into the almost empty house that used to be filled with ladybugs and childhood laughter. She was my grandmother. She was my role model. She was my best friend.

I have learned so many life lessons from my grandmother that will carry through with me until my last breath. She taught me how to be emotional, strong, friendly, brave, determined, stubborn, and hilarious. She showed me what it is like to raise a family and live through some of the hardest times for women. She raised me to be appreciative of my talents and to reach for the stars. Every day I miss my grandmother, but I am more than blessed that she is with my grandfather once again for the rest of eternity, and there is no better feeling than knowing that my two favorite people will always be watching over me.