I can't believe it's been five years . . .

This is a sad anniversary for me to mark, because it was five years ago tonight that my grandmother, Joyce F. Hamme, passed away.


Odd as it may seem, I remember exactly what I was doing that night. Like this year, July 19, 2003, fell on a Saturday, and that evening I went to the Arlington Drafthouse with Sam and Nicole to see Anger Management. On the way home from the Drafthouse, I got a call from Will and Erica, who had spent the day in Baltimore, asking if we wanted to meet at a halfway point between Baltimore and Alexandria—and the best halfway point proved to be Sam and Nicole's condo, as they were living in Columbia, MD, at the time. Around 11:00 that night, while sitting on Sam and Nicole's back patio, my cell phone rang for the second time that night . . . and somehow I just knew who it was and why they were calling.

I've been to my grandmother's grave site a few times since we buried her (in York, PA), and every time I visited, I still couldn't quite comprehend the fact that she was gone. Somehow it just never felt right, her not being in the picture. Even now, five years later, it's still hard to believe. And I miss the old girl pretty badly sometimes.

There was a lot of spunk in that little woman—a lot of spunk. And a lot of love, too. She had plenty of trademark dotty moments, but you could never call her insincere. My father always said how strong her character was when he was growing up, and for a few moments, several months before she died, I think I was able to see the woman he knew as a young man. Not the weak and frail lady in advanced age, but the strong-willed, heart-of-gold Joyce who always had hope and always believed in me and my family. And that's how I choose to remember her.

So Grandma, wherever you are, I love you and I miss you. May you continue to rest in peace.