Grandmothers

I got my period the day my mom died. It wasn’t my first period or anything. I was 29 at the time. But the painful coincidence didn’t go unnoticed. Nor did the parallel that exactly nine months had passed between Mom’s diagnosis of pancreatic cancer and the day of her death. My mom had been …

If you know me personally, you know that I’m usually pretty good in social situations. I’m quick with the wit, don’t always smell bad, and remember to flush. But my husband’s grandmother makes me nervous. She’s old world, as in schooled at a French convent, forks in the right place, English isn’t her first language …