Memory Eternal

It's been one year since my Grandma died. I didn't really think about it until yesterday, and I was thinking about memories, and such. One memory always comes first to mind with my grandma; when I was in grade eleven, a friend of mind committed suicide. I remember my mom had to pick Grammy up from her Costume store and drive her home, and I happened to be in the car. I hadn't been eating (had no appetite) for a few days since finding out about Paul (my friend). She asked my mom to drive to a certain bakery, and went in and bought some sausage rolls for me. Originally, they didn't have any out, but she insisted they go into the back and find some, because her granddaughter's friend had died, and she wanted to make me feel better by getting me something she knew I liked.
I have no idea why this memory is the most vivid I have of her. But it is. She may have been a difficult woman to get along with, but regardless of her vices, she had a very good heart.
She grew up in Shanghai, and when I converted to Orthodoxy, she told me of her times in Shanghai, and the Russian priests she would see walking around town. They terrified her with their big black beards, and black cassoks, and she would always cross the street. She was in Shanghai the same time St. John of Shanghai was there, and I'm more than certain she saw him on more than one occasion. She died on his feast day.

With the Saints give rest, O Christ, to the soul of servant where there is not pain, nor any sorrow, nor any sighing, but Life everlasting.
Memory Eternal.