So I have finally turned 40. I feel bad for the year 39, in that I imagine it does not get the energy and attention it deserves for simply being year 39. It is always that last year. I think people either live it in a desperate clinging fashion, or in an anticipatory fashion. I lived it fine, though for the last 3 months I have been in anticipatory mode, and started telling many people I was 40. I didn't give 39 its due, and for that, 39, I wholly apologize. Sadly, I can't make it up to you, only promise that I will attempt to give 49 the year it deserves.

It has been a strange time, in that 40 also seems silly to even think about. At the moment, I am hardly thinking about it, as my grandmother has about a week to live, and it is making me think about her quite a bit. She is the closest person to me to die in maybe 30 years. It is much more of a blow than when my father died 20 years ago. He was not really in my life. She was, and has been until the end.

She is 95, but I think we all thought she was going to be here for another 10 years. It certainly didn't seem out of the question. Her brain is fine, she was still driving a little bit, she lived alone, and she is just a lovely person to be around. This is the first year I have not received a birthday card from her, that is how thoughtful she is.

She really loves all of her kids and her grandchildren, and I believe it is not just a general love that she gives no thought to. She genuinely cares about us. I have always been surprised at her level of wisdom and insight, whenever discussing family members with her. It is clear that she thinks about us all, and appreciates the good in us.

My grandma is Catholic, but I don't think she is strict about it. She told me once that she thought the church was important for a sense of community. She was always very social through it. She knitted things for fairs and until recently attended a weekly Scripture group. She told me that every Christmas all the different denominations in her town would visit a different church, and have a meal. I think she is very spiritual but it is a personal thing, not a by-the-rules thing. I never felt judged by her, and our family is full of many sins - born out of wedlock, divorce, living in sin, homosexuality, and interfaith marriage. She loves us all, I never heard her say anything against anything. Maybe she did when she was younger - I don't know. But in my time knowing her I never found religion to be an issue. I imagine she had many private conversations with invisible forces. She loved solitude, but I never had the impression she was lonely. My grandfather died 30 years ago, and she has been on her own ever since.

I think it concerned her that my brother and I didn't have a father figure in our lives, and though I never heard her say anything, it was clear after awhile that she didn't view my stepfather as any kind of parent. I appreciated that, as he was actually an extremely dark force in my life that I could not control. She and my grandfather (when he was alive) were very important in providing when my mother could not, and doing things to cultivate our minds, encourage our interests.

For many years, they gave us a subscription to National Geographic "World" magazine, the NG for kids. When we visited my grandparents, I loved looking at all of their old copies of National Geographic, and imagining far away places. That is still my favorite magazine. I have a subscription today!

I remember my grandparents taking me to see "The Fantastiks" at Theatre By-The-Sea in Portsmouth. I was probably only 6. I loved it, even if I couldn't completely follow the story. They also took me to see Godspell, which I always loved. I remember watching it on tv at their house in Queens, before they moved to NH. Later they took me to see some plays at the community theatre in the town they retired to. They were always very encouraging for me to be an actress. (I hope I haven't let them down...)

When I had my violin recital at the age of 9, they came to see it, and bought me an outfit to wear: white collared shirt, blue skirt and clogs.

My grandma drove to my house one evening to let me interview her for a class assignment about growing up during the Great Depression. I was very surprised and fascinated by what she told me. In her lifetime, she saw people change from horse and buggy to automobile, and electricity in every home. People used to run 5 blocks to the local store to receive a phone call, as most people did not have a phone, so a call could be for anyone in the neighborhood when it came in.

When I was a teenager, I wanted to go to another country and be a foreign exchange student. My grandma obviously thought about it, because one day after school she drove down to my house, picked me up, and brought me back to her town for a meeting for students interested in foreign exchange. I heard a girl talk about her summer in Sweden, and heard a boy from Uruguay talk about his time in New Hampshire.

Several times in grade school, I stayed at my grandmother's house with girlfriends for the weekend. She always took us out for breakfast, which was such a treat! We would get pancakes every time.

Later when I was in college, I remember her picking me up from the bus station to attend my older brother's first wedding. None of us were happy. He was very young and the girl he was marrying was trashy and suspect. She drove me to get some breakfast, and it was the first time I ever drank coffee in front of her. She was surprised, and told me if I was going to drink coffee, I'd better drink milk because coffee depletes calcium in your bones. Then she said to me, with a weird twinkle in her eye, "you know, old people don't fall down and break a hip. The break a hip, and that's why they fall down." Happily, I finally gave up coffee a year ago.

I think no matter what I have done or what I have told her, I think my grandma has always made me feel that I could do anything, and that I was pretty special. I suppose that is really what a good grandparent will do, and I think I had the best.

I think the best thing she has ever said to me is, "the only thing you are supposed to do with your life is live it!" That is the greatest, most inspiring, and most comforting thing I have heard anyone say. I remind myself of this quote time and time again, as I surf the ups and downs.

Whenever I have gone back to her house for a visit, I am almost embarrassed by the little gifts she has kept from me over the years. There is an enormous toadstool that I once found in the woods, and with the tip of a knife, I carved a woodland scene into it as a gift for her. She still has it. The last time I was visiting her, she pulled it out, "remember when you made me this?", she asked with a smile. "I can't believe you still have that," I replied incredulously. The toadstool probably weighs 15 pounds - it is about the size of a large medicine ball. "Of course I have it," she laughed, "how often does someone give you one of these?"

She also has a drawing I made for her once. My Aunt Jane once gave me one of those poseable wooden statues that people use for figure drawing. I was very young, maybe 9,10. I made a drawing of the statue, a very dramatic one, with a blue pencil. It is not a great drawing, I was not trained at all and don't have any particular talent, but she framed it, and it is still on her living room wall, like a great piece of art.

As I became older, and trained to believe that drawing and painting and any other form of creativity should only be done if you are "good" at it, the little homemade gifts stopped being given. But one time, after coming home from a semester in Europe, I did make her one last thing. I made her a Christmas ornament based on one of my favorite drawings, Paul Klee's "Forgetful Angel". It was made out of a coarse dough that I formed roughly into the shape of Klee's image, then baked, and then painted in tones of grey. She put it on the shelf of her china cabinet in the kitchen, and it has remained there ever since.

I got to see my grandma one last time, this past winter. Darcy and I got to stay with her for about 4 days. She was limping around, but she made it seem like no big deal, which seemed to be her style. But now I know it was cancer pressing on her spine. While I was there, we chatted together and I ran some errands for her and we watched some DVDs. And I noticed that on her china cabinet, the angel was still there! It has dried out, and is crumbling. But she still has it. Maybe she really liked it, because she's an angel too.

I'm going to miss my grandma. But I am happy that I have had her in my life, and that I can miss so many wonderful things about her.