Gran: A Shout-out

I don't have very many of my own memories of Gran.  I remember that she picked me up from school once and took me to Arby's as a treat.  I found out I don't really like roast beef sandwiches, but I didn't really care because it was just Gran and me together.  I remember that she used to sing that song about wiskers growing out of your chin... I can't quite articulate it anymore but I have the shadow of the words stuck in my head, along with the sound of her high, slightly squeaky voice, remeniscent of the 1940's or 1950's.  (But maybe I only remember it like that because I was always so young and she baby-talked to me.  I don't know.)  She also taught me the song about Gladys.  I taught the lyrics to some orphans in Baja my freshman year of college when I found out that one of the girls was named Gladys.  My memory of the song goes like this:

Gladys, where are you going?
Upstairs, to take a bath.
Gladys, with legs like toothpicks,
And a neck like a giraffe-raffe-raffe-raffe-raffe-raffe-raffe-raffe

Gladys, stepped in the bathtub,
Slipped on a bar of soap,
"Oh my goodness, oh my soul, there goes Gladys down the hole!"
sssssssssssslllllllllllllluuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrpppppppp-POP!

I remember trying so hard to make my 'POP!' as good and loud as Gran's. I also remember going on a walk with Gran and Papa near a park.  It had just rained and all of the snails had come out onto the sidewalk.  There seemed to be thousands of snails to my six-year-old self.  Gran kept having to wait for me so that I could step on every single one.  After she died, I remember looking back on that walk and wishing I had left the snails alone and talked with her instead.  I was only seven and I already knew regret.

Today was the 14th anniversary of her passing.  My baptism was only a couple months later, and I had asked Papa to confim me.  I don't remember much from my baptism, but one thing that stuck out was that in my confirmation Papa said that Gran was there and that she was so proud of me.  You know what?  I still feel her with me; I still feel her love and support.  Sometimes, when I walk to school, I see the magesty of the mountains and it reminds me to pray and thank Heavenly Father for all the beauty of the world He created.  And sometimes I ask Him to say hi to Gran for me, and to tell her thanks for keeping an eye out for me.  Because I know she does, and I know she is there.  It amazes me that I feel such a closeness to Gran despite the fact that I was so young when she died.  Part of the reason for this is because my mother was/is very good about keeping her memory alive in our home, and the other part is because the veil separating her from me is so thin... it's not tangible, it's just like a plaque on my memory that I try and try to shake off, but can't.  Sometimes I feel like I get close, like I can almost remember and see... but I am still mortal and I just have to rely on faith that she is there.  I'm so thankful for the knowledge of eternal families, and that when I see Gran again it will be like no time has passed.  And maybe when we start chatting, I'll tell her a funny story about something that happened in my life, and she'll laugh along with me and say, "Yeah, I remember; that was hilarious!"