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Happy Birthday, Granny!

I've been emotionally on edge all week because I've thinking about Granny. Today is her 97th birthday, and she's not around to celebrate. It's been three months since she took her leave, and it still hurts. Not in that active, open wound sort of way, but more like the dull ache that only throbs when you touch it.

I had what I call a Granny moment last weekend. I went to a play with one of my co-workers, and as we were talking afterwards, he mentioned James Earl Jones. Jones was Granny's favorite actor, and I met him years ago during my internship with The Tom Joyner Morning Show. As the good granddaughter I am, I made it a point to get an autograph for her. When she died, we found that autograph in her Bible. It moved me so much that she would keep an autograph -- probably the only one she'd ever had -- in the place she reserved for all of her important documents. I had to fight off tears as I repeated that story for my friend.

Even Barack's nomination brought up memories of Granny. It hurts me to know that she won't live to see a qualified Black man in the running to be the president of the United States after all her years of participating in the voting process. I already know she would be so proud of him, and excited about the possibilities. I can almost hear the shock and awe in her voice even now. I also know what she would tell me if she could -- "Baby, I know I'm not there to enjoy what's going on, but if I hadn't done what I did, you wouldn't be able to enjoy it, either."

I guess that's the part that frustrates me. My grandmother lived through all the major events in my lifetime, and I want her to be here for this one, too. I wish I could climb in bed with her and discuss it. But you know what? If she were here, she would caution me against making "vain wishes."

Well, Happy Birthday, Granny. Wish you were here.


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