The center is gone

The center is gone.
Perhaps the only way to describe my grandma is that she, and her house, were the center because, for as long as I can remember, "Grandma Starck's" house was more than an extension of home, but the center of our world.

When we were in grade school, Jamie and I would go to Grandma Starck's after school to wait for our dad to come back from working with our grandpa.
Several of our cousins would usually also be there, and Grandma would always have a soda and a snack waiting for us. Dinner would be cooking on the stove, and, if there was a day game, the voices of the Cardinals' announcers would be emanating from the little radio on the counter.

Summertime and the scene replayed, without the pesky interference of school.
We'd play outside, chasing pop-flies, taking turns on the swingset, or riding bikes up to Glaser's store, and when we were finally ready to let the sunlight fade into the western sky without us, we'd return to the house, hunting for dinner, and there she was.

As we grew older, even when we no longer needed to seek refuge there after school, Grandma's house remained at the center.

Sunday meant church, and after church the Starck clan would almost always gather for lunch at Grandma's, aunts and uncles, cousins and friends filling the limited spaces, dress shoes clip-clopping on the linoleum floor, voices rising like a geyser in spurts and bunches.

This scene was replicated on countless holidays, family gatherings and get-togethers, the storyline the same even as the family gained more actors.

Usually a boisterous place, Grandma Starck's was also a place for sadness, for standing together to support each other as we celebrated the lives of passed family members.

She, too, was the center of the family; she was the one who kept the family together, drawing the line in the sand that forced grandpa to drop the bottle for good.

For some people, the house actually was their home: when Jamie and Sam and John and Stacy and Jason needed some place to stay, it was to Grandma that they turned, and were welcomed with open arms.

How lucky we were to have such an anchor, a foundation for this crazy family. I'm going to miss you, Grandma.
Love,
Jeff