My grandmother was not necessarily my favorite person, I guess. She wasn't the sort to make you cookies and milk every day. She was more of a realist - if you fell she'd point out what silly thing you were doing that caused you to fall rather than scoop you up to kiss away the hurts. Still, she was a character I remember from my childhood. We'd go visit her when we could - not every summer or holiday, but pretty close to every year or at least every other year we'd see her for a few days. I remember her eclectic taste in decorating, and the wild gifts she'd give on occasion. Many of the gifts were borne of a need to give something, even when she didn't have a lot of money - some of those I still have, like a very cool costume jewelry necklace from the 40s, which at the time I was entirely certain was a joke. She'd tell us interesting stories from her childhood - but more often we were out playing in the yard with the cousins while she had a beer and talked with the adults.
I think in many ways she is that fireball from southern movies - the one who you both aren't quite sure you want to be related to and yet can't imagine living without. The one you get jealous of other people for having stories about. Stories you wish you could tell, and some of which you can but some of which you embellish just to make them seem more real. Maybe we do that to all of our memories - romanticize a bit, fantasize a bit, keep the good bits and let the bad ones fade out.
Anyway, regardless of the times I was exasperated with my grandmother, I do love her, and I will miss her. I am glad that she is no longer in pain - suffering for the sake of prolonging life is no way to live, and apparently she felt the same. Rest in peace, Grandma, and go with God.