My grandma was a heroine. In 2008, when I worked for the White House, she was so very proud of me. But she was also very sick, breast, bone and blood cancer having wracked her body. I was determined, to get my grandmother a tour of the West Wing. I had the passes, the day was set, we were outside of the West Wing, looking around for parking. We finally find a parking space. And if you know anything about DC parking, you know that it’s no easy feat. As soon as my grandfather turns the car off, my grandmother realizes that she has left her identification in the hotel room.
My grandfather, grandmother and mother all have simultaneous meltdowns and the minivan was filled with devastation. But this was probably my proudest moment, because I came to the rescue! Hailing a cab Sarah Jessica Parker style I hauled ass to their hotel on Massachusetts Avenue, thundered down the halls and got into the room, grabbed the ID and sprinted back to the West Wing entrance within 18 minutes. I had saved the day and we spent the next hour wandering through the West Wing, visiting the Oval Office, standing at the National Press Secretary’s podium, reminiscing on generations past who would’ve never been able to see or do such things. I wanted that moment to be so terribly special for my family and it was.
A year later, my grandmother passed away. She didn’t get to see me cross the stage with my Bachelor’s Degree, but I know she was there. You see, it rained the moment I crossed the stage and anyone who knows Linda knows she was a weepy one.
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