Friday, August 13

In Memoriam

My life changed forever seven years ago today. Death is not something I had really experienced in my 19 years on earth. She was only 69 years old. She barely had a wrinkle on her face. When she smiled, her entire face lit up. I flew to Los Angeles to see her one last time the week before her death. Until that moment, I had not truly believed she was dying, but yet she was. Even in those final days, she still had her sense of humor. She and I walked arm and arm downstairs so she could keep us company while we cooked. She joked that I was ascorting her down the aisle. She watched me paint my toe nails a sparkly pink and wanted me to paint hers the same color. For some reason, I didn't, and I still regret it very much. She admired the clothes I bought when I took her car (by myself) to the mall to go back-to-school shopping. Although I won't wear it anymore, I kept one of those shirts to remember those last days. In that week, I saw what cancer does to a person. It made me appreciate life. I wish I could truly describe my relationship with my grandma. She was one of the most special people I have ever known. Grandmotherly and childlike at the same time, she saw beauty and love in everyone. I think of her every day. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I see her in my dreams. I remember worrying that I would start to forget her in the days after she died. Would I remember what she sounded like? Would I remember her smell? Her laugh? I don't worry about those things anymore. I still carry her in my heart every day. I hear her laugh when I laugh. I see her hands when I look at my own. I smell her when I use her favorite Dove soap to wash my face. I keep my "jewels" in her jewelry boxes. I sit on the couch and love seat she bought for me one month before she died. I hold the cat that she never met. She predicted "little Oliver" would be a lap cat. She was right. She also predicted my days at Ole Miss would be happy ones. She said I would meet someone special there, someone who would erase all of my bad memories. I doubted her a little bit as I sat on the edge of her bed. Of course, she was right. Jonathan was moving into the condo next door to mine as I was saying goodbye to my grandma. I wish with all of my heart that he could have known her. He knows and loves her California.

He knows and loves her house. He goes there with me every year and will continue to do so long after her house is sold. That thought has also been a hard one for me to swallow this summer.

I know the days of going to her home are numbered, and that makes me sad.

I grow roses because of her. Mine will neve be as large as hers, but I think they would make her proud. I love taking care of her roses. There are so many of them that we can cut some to take to cemetary for her and her two husbands. Their smell is divine.
This rose is from my garden. There haven't been too many pink ones this year, but they are always perfect and they always smell divine.
As you probably already know, this blog is for her. It's my way to honor her memory and keep the things she loved at the forefront of my mind.
I recently found a Tumblr blog called Your Granny Was Chic.
I would completely agree with that statement. You can learn so much from your grandmother.
If you are lucky enough to still have her in your life, go spend some time with her. Learn from her. Hug her. Take her a rose from your garden.
Or, if you're like me, just honor her memory any way you can.


  1. I went and saw mine today.....

  2. I can't wait to go see mine tomorrow now. We've obviously both got a real soft spot for our sweet little grannies.


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