It's been pretty crazy in my house the past few nights with my husband being ill and I finally have a second to sit down and put up a quick post. I'm sorry that this post will be lacking pictures because I don't have any on this computer and I am sort of rushing today :)
I have been very blessed with two very wonderful grandmothers. And I am so lucky to have been close with them both while growing up. My father's mother, who we called Mari, passed away just about six months ago. With Mother's Day this weekend, she has been on my mind even more than usual.I thought I would share with you something that I wrote for and read at her memorial service last December.
This is just a little something for my grandmother, Dorothy May, who I miss very much.
When you're a kid there are certain things that become really important to you. Things like your grandmother's collection of dolls and her love for Shirley Temple and heart shaped rocks. Things like knowing exactly where to find the nail polish that she had just used to paint her nails and the dollhouse that her brother made for her. Stories about her years dancing and performing and knowing that her old costumes were packed away in the attic, and knowing that no matter what, I could walk into her house and things would be just as they should be.
My Mari was stubborn and determined. She liked to do things for herself and she liked things done her way; even the recycling. She hated being bossed around, but boy did she like telling my grandfather what to do. She'd yell, "Raymond, comb your hair and fix your eyebrows!" and then she'd look at you with that twinkle that was always in her eyes and you'd know that she loved it. That she loved him. She was proud. Often too proud to ask to ask for help, but mostly, she was proud of her family.
My grandmother was kind. People liked her, babies liked her, even the wild turkeys and birds were enchanted by her. She loved to do things for others. Like taking in my dad's garbage cans and folding my cousin's laundry. She loved to feel needed.I imagine that her desire to take care of my grandfather kept her alive. It kept her healthy. Even when she became ill herself, she stayed as strong as she could in order to care for him.
She always pretended that she hated being the center of attention, but I never really believed her. She would roll her eyes and protest when my grandfather declared her Queen of whatever it was we were celebrating that day, but then you'd see her little smirk as she led the parade. She played hostess to many events, and when she welcomed people into her home, magical things could happen. Strangers became friends and friends became family. No one ever left her house and forgot about it.
My grandmother taught me that despite our small size, we should stand tall. She showed me that with quiet confidence I can accomplish great things. She showed me the importance of being loyal to the people you love. But most importantly, she showed me never to forget about my inner child. I know she never did.
I love you, Mari. I love you a bushel and a peck. A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck!
I'll be back later tonight or tomorrow with a special Mother's Day post.