The way to love someone
is to lightly run your finger over that person's soul
until you find a crack,
and then gently pour your love into that crack.
~Keith Miller

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Definitely one of those ten best days

My grandmother was important to me. Not because she was one of those sweet little old lady types ... she wasn't ... I liked her because she just was exactly who she was without paying very much attention to what anyone else thought about that. We started our relationship when I was tiny ... Memories of her go back to when I was probably around three. I started writing her "letters" before I knew how to write (and my older brother came home from Kindergarten each day teaching me everything he was working on at school that day ... I learned how to draw the alphabet pretty quickly ... except for Ss ... so it was before that ). My mom would give me a piece of nice stationery and I would sit quietly making strings of loops ... line after line of loops and swirls. Momma folded the pages up and sent them along with her letters. Sometimes my granny would call on the telephone ... long distance phone calls were a big deal back in the nineteen-sixties. I remember asking her if she had received my latest "letter" ... "Sure did, thank you very kindly" she said. I asked her what it said she answered with a laugh, "You wrote it, you must remember what you said!" And then my phone time was used up and it was passed to the next one in line to visit ... I walked away so sad. My Granny can't read I thought. Every week a letter would come addressed especially to me ... inside was beautiful stationery with line after line of loops and swirls ... and sometimes a drawing of a bird or a flower and always a stick of Wrigley's spearmint gum. My momma would read the letter to me while I enjoyed my treat. My momma could read loops and swirls ... poor Granny I thought, she should be able to read by now.

When I was old enough I began spending at least a month every summer with my grandparents. The owned a plant nursery and I loved watering the plants and sweeping the aisles ... and listening to my Granddad whistle happily and talk to the workers in Spanish. One day I dropped and broke a handful of terra cotta pots ... I ripped out with some word in Spanish that I had heard my Papa say in situations like that ... Granny was not pleased with my first foray in to foreign languages. I overheard them laughing about it later as she chided him. My momma wouldn't have been laughing about that word.

I loved them both, but especially her. She died around this time of year three years ago. I was able to spend some time with her a few months before she passed. Would she recognize me I wondered ... she did. It was a very sweet time for me. Each time I left the room and returned it was as though she had just seen me for the first time ... she had almost no short term memory. She was so delighted to see me every time. I took her and my momma out to eat at the local Chinese buffet ... my Grandmother made me laugh when she said, "This is your Mother's favorite restaurant ... I can't remember things well, I know that, but I am sure I have never liked this kind of food!" She pushed things around on her plate objecting to first this then that ... she leaned over and whispered to me, "Please go find something for me that I will like ... make it something I recognize please." I came back with banana slices and green jello. "She can't eat that for lunch!" Momma exclaimed. "Watch me." Granny replied ... and that settled it. After lunch I took them to a local nursery ... Granny loved that ... pointing out this and that detail. I wanted to buy her a plant but she insisted not ... "I may not be around long enough to water it." She was a no nonsense sorta girl. As the day wore on my granny became less lucid ... and I was grateful for those earlier few golden minutes with her. She surprised me later when it was time for me to leave ... she held my hand and pulled me in close to her. "Don't be sad baby, I've been hearing about heaven all my life. I don't remember much ... I know that, but I do remember that I belong to Him and I am not afraid to go see for myself what that's all about."
I think about her often. It was good to see what she was able to hold on to ... to me it seemed that she was in her purest form ... like everything extemporaneous had fallen away ... she remembered that she belonged to Him and she wasn't afraid.

That's one of the ten best days for sure.

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