My Mammaw died last night.  I'm not exactly sure how to feel.  Yes, it's sad.  She was my last grandparent, and she was a really special lady.  It seems like I should say I'm going to miss her, but she wasn't a big part of my life.  Does that sound bad?  I loved her.  I know she loved me.  Growing up we saw her once or  twice a year.  There were a couple summers I got to spend a couple weeks at her house, and she did her best to spoil me rotten, because that's the kind of Mammaw she was.

Then they moved to Texas, and while I realize Texas isn't on the other side of the world or anything, we never went to visit, and they never came back.  Except there was that one time when my nephew Jesse was a baby, but that was before I had kids.  My Mammaw never met my kids.  I sent her some pictures when they were little, and I know she loved them even though she'd never met them, and she would have loved to spoil them rotten, too.  But she never got the chance.

. . .