I’m not ready to accept that I’m down to one grandparent. As we plan a vacation to Utah to visit family, I keep telling myself I need to make time to swing by and visit my grandparents. But only my grandmother on my mother’s side is left. Growing up both grandparents lived about 30 minutes from our home, and I saw them at least a couple of times each month. My grandfather bought me my first calculator, and I stayed up all night pressing 1+1 over and over till I fell asleep just shy of 10,000. My grandmother would take me to ZCMI Center each fall to buy me a new outfit for school. So many good memories. By living in Seattle our children haven’t had as many opportunities to spend time with their grandparents. When they do, it’s a treat and something they don’t take for granted. Last summer we made a trip to Utah so my grandma on my dad’s side could see our new baby. It was the first and last time she was able to hold our youngest son because she passed away the day after we left. During these times life feels so fragile. The separation feels too abrupt. In a couple of weeks the six of us will make the 15 hour drive to Ogden. Each trip down could mean the last time I see my grandmother alive. Sometimes age has a funny way of changing one’s personality. She may not be as patient as I remember. She may repeat the same story or become confused. Yet when she uses her left hand to prop up her right hand in order to grasp my hand, I know exactly what she means. [video=]