Everyone that knows me knows how special my grandmother is to me. My BeBe. I came up with her name, BeBe, at the ripe age of one year. I had heard everyone else calling her "Betty" (her real name) and my young attempt at repeating it came out as "BeBe." It stuck, and now just about everyone calls her BeBe. But she'll always be my BeBe.
BeBe was first diagnosed with lung cancer when I was newly married and newly licensed. She opted to forego any chemo or radiation treatment, and have the cancerous lung removed. The surgery was successful, and its lasted her a long time in keeping the cancer at bay. She's seen my brother married, my cousin married, and together, we've had six great-grandchildren for her to get to know and love.
One of my favorite memories with her happened the day after Christmas, 2003. Alex was three months old, and I was upstairs getting dressed when I heard the strangest sound coming from downstairs. As most new moms are, I had an eerie ability to hear my baby's every cry.
The sounds coming from downstairs were definitely from my baby, but they weren't a cry. I rushed down, worried. I could hear BeBe, clearly, and it seemed like she was with him, but... what were those sounds?? Was he choking? Fallen? Hurt? What could it be??
Imagine my suprise, and utter joy, to find out that he was laughing.
His very first ever laugh, brought on my his great-grandmother.
It was just the cutest, sweetest thing I'd ever seen, and I'll always treasure this moment, when my BeBe made my Alex laugh for the first time.