Grandma Candy

I had this grandma once. I only had her for a few years; she wasn't my biological grandma but she treated me like I was her real and true grand-daughter. She was my step-father's mother and her name was Candy. I called her "Grandma Candy" and she called me "sweetheart". I didn't much like her son, but I loved her.

She was killed by a drunk driver on this day... 1990? 1991? I was in juniour high school, so sometime around then. I don't remember exactly what year and it doesn't really matter. What I remember is how kind she was to me, how she treated me like I was family; I remember how she had a little movie store and that she taught me to use a shrink wrapping machine to package the movies in. I remember that we used to have dates, just me and her; she would take me shopping with her and we would talk about life and whatever else was on my mind. I can still hear her voice in my head - I don't recall any particular lesson she taught me, but I remember that she made me feel loved.

As I often do with people in my life who have died, I wonder what she would think of the world now; I wonder who she would vote for and where she would live. Would she be one of those blue-haired grannies who crocheted afghans all day or would she be doing wheelies in her motorised wheelchair? I think she would be having fun, no matter what.