Trares
One of my most cherished possessions is stored in a folder on my smartphone.
It’s a simple file, titled “Grandma Jerrie.” There’s not much to it, just 28 seconds of sound. But in those seconds are the words of reassurance and love that never fails to bring a lump to my throat.
“Yeah Ryan, this is Grandma Jerrie. I just wanted to send you our love. We are so proud of you, and we love the new pictures we got of you and Anthony. God bless you all. Amen. Bye.”
My grandmother had called me years ago, leaving a voicemail when I didn’t answer initially. Though I of course called her back, I never deleted the voicemail. And as I’m terrible about cleaning out my digital storage, I rediscovered the recording a while later. I converted into a file I could share and save. That way, I could hear my grandma’s voice whenever I wanted.
My Grandma Jerrie passed away last week. It was not unexpected, but still dealt a blow to our whole family. Our hearts are aching.
Grandma was, without exaggeration, the nicest person I’d ever met. She showed nothing but kindness for everyone she came across, and taught that to her children, her grandchildren and her great-grandson.
Of course, she reserved her greatest kindness for her family.
Nothing beat going to grandma and grandpa’s house. Walking through the door, even before the hugs came, you caught the whiff of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. Grandma’s Jerrie’s smile lit up the room, and on Christmas, Thanksgiving or just any old weekend, she did everything possible to ensure everyone was happy, comfortable, and very, very full.
Food was her love language, whether it was chop suey on Christmas Eve or macaroni salad in the summertime.
She never forgot something her grandchildren liked, tucking it away in her memory. If you so much as mentioned you enjoyed a certain treat, you could be sure it was well-stocked every visit moving forward. That meant every time, she had Dr. Pepper, Big Red gum and Klondike bars waiting for me.
One time, my wife casually said she liked key lime pie. You’d better believe Grandma had a full key lime pie waiting for her at every family gathering for years.
If her family was her greatest love, then coming in a close second would be her hometown Cleveland sports teams. I don’t think she ever missed watching or listening to the Indians (before they became the Guardians.) She cheered as hard as she could for the Cavaliers and Browns, and showed unwavering support.
We uncovered a letter to the editor she wrote to her local newspaper following the release of quarterback Bernie Kosar from the Browns in 1993. Kosar was an icon in Cleveland, and what was interpreted as the shabby treatment of a hero fired up the passionate Northeast Ohio fans — including people suggesting giving up on the Browns.
Grandma Jerrie took a more reasoned approach.
“They deserve our support, whether or not we like the coach. These great players can’t help what has happened. We all miss Kosar, but he isn’t the whole team. The Browns have a lot of talent, and they need our support,” she wrote.
“How about it, Browns fans? Where should your loyalty be?”
This afternoon, we’ll gather together to celebrate Grandma’s life. We’ll tell stories and remember all of the good times, even as we grieve. Her loss leaves a hole that cannot be filled.
But the love she showed all of us will never leave us. If I ever need a reminder, all I have to do is play that 28-second recording, and she’s right there again waiting for me with a big hug.
Ryan Trares is a senior reporter and columnist for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].
