I’ve had this Snoopy for my entire life. We’re the same age, in truth he’s probably a little older than I am. I have two of them, a big one and a little one. The little one stays with me in Brooklyn. The big one here stays in my old room at my Mom’s house. I don’t sleep with them or anything, but I like having them around. They remind me of being a kid and all the things that come with the territory. I remember them giving me comfort when I’d be scared at night. It was such a long time ago I can’t even remember what I was scared of, maybe the dark or a monster in the closet.
A few years ago my grandmother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Without really thinking about it I brought my big Snoopy to the hospital with me a little after she had been diagnosed. At the time I think I just wanted to give her something that would remind her of me that she could keep with her. Maybe there was more to it than that. As I’m writing this I think it may have had to do with my associations with it. Snoopy helped me when I was scared, and maybe subconsciously I thought it could do the same for my grandmother.
I don’t know if it helped her feel brave, but I do know that her face lit up a little when I gave it to her, and she smiled like it was an inside joke. For the rest of the ordeal, Snoopy was always by her side.
I went to see my Mother for Mother’s Day today, and saw him sitting in my bedroom. I’m really glad I thought of my grandmother today.
Happy Mother’s Day Grandma.