Memories

When I start trying to pull memories, it's odd the things that most readily jump to mind. My grandmother has a very limited time left on this earth, and I'm feeling contemplative. I wish that I could find some glowing extraordinary moments to pull from, but most of my remembrances are random snatches of everyday life from my childhood. 

There was a color version of this photo that hung in my great grandfather's bedroom. My grandmother at the age of sixteen. I loved that photo and used to stare at it, wishing I had her dark brown hair and green eyes. Granny had a tendency to be deprecating when it came to her appearance, especially when compared to her sister, but I thought she was beautiful.  

I always loved listening to stories about growing up in Atlanta during the 30s and 40s. I wish I had listened harder and longer. I wish that I had asked more questions. 

I don't remember cuddles and snuggles, although I have heard Granny talk about rocking me in the rocking chair that now sits in my den. Mostly I remember the moments where my cousins and I had pushed her too far. One too many screams and we would hear her footsteps coming down the hall. One too many arguments and we would get the tongue lashing to beat all tongue lashings. She could be blunt and cutting when provoked, but I never once doubted that she loved me...and retrospectively, I probably deserved her sharp speeches. If she disliked you, you knew it, but if she loved you, she loved you fiercely. 

I remember the way my grandmother cared for her aging parents. When her mother was in the nursing home in Flowery Branch, Granny made multiple trips during the week to check in. She traded out laundry, painted finger nails, and straightened up the room. During one of these trips, my great grandmother voiced concern over Granny's weight loss. As clear as anything, I remember Granny responding, "It's just the diabetes, mother..." That phrase has jumped to mind so many times since then, and I can't help but think of it when I see how small she has become.

I remember going to the store and being told we could pick out a toy for a certain amount of money. 

I remember the endless supply of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and Fudge Rounds during the summer months. 

I remember her faithfully picking up grandchildren from school. 

I remember family meals and milestones - birthdays, graduations, showers, and my wedding. 

I see a lot of my grandmother in my father. As I get older, I recognize her in myself as well. She played a fundamental role in my upbringing, and I think I subconsciously drew from her example. Unfortunately, I never developed her habit of making the bed every morning, and my house has never looked as clean as her house. She taught me to pick up and keep moving no matter what life throws at me, and for better or worse, I inherited her mile wide stubborn streak. 

Granny did not like to show emotion, and one Christmas I gave her a memory book that I made with quotes and photos. She briefly glanced at the book and then hurriedly put it to the side. I had put so much work into her present, and I was stung by her seeming indifference. Shortly after, I received a long written thank you note from Granny telling me how much she loved her present. She explained that she didn't want to look at it at the time because she knew she would cry. That letter meant so much, and I still have it in a box on my bookshelf. 

More than anything, I hope that I make as much of an impression on my grandchildren as my grandmother has made on me. I have always taken her constant presence for granted, and it is indescribable to think what my life will be like without her.