Dear Gramma,
Around this time of year, when grass is getting greener but is still cool between my toes, when the Bradfords are blooming but the bees haven’t come out of hiding, when the skies are clear and the breeze is light – I think of you. I know that if you were still here on this Earth, living in your house, I would be over there this evening, maybe every evening knowing you and me. These are the days where I would go outside barefoot, leaving my shoes heaven-knows-where. These are the days I know we would be in the garden getting dirt under our fingernails. I know that you would have on a “light sweater” and I’d have no jacket. You would not approve of my jacketlessness – you never did! I know that by now I would have begged to live with you and my Poppa, maybe a successful request. I also know that your name would have shortened from “Gramma” to “Gram” – for me at least. I know that we would have to go see movies together, go for walks on the greenway with my girl cousins, talk about my man, talk about your man, about God and things above, talk about my career, and what I miss most of all, I know I’d hear your input and encouragement. I know that tea parties would not be a thing of the past – that we as Gram and granddaughter would sit down for long talks over tea in every season wearing whatever clothes we had on. I know that every once in a while, “the girls” would pile up and watch old movies together, savoring the company more than the plot. I know that you would finally have shown me the secret to your bread, spaghett’, macaroni n cheese, and your cookies (because I would have pestered you to death for them!). And even though I’m a grown woman and you’d be an aged Gram, we’d still have a “special day” for just you and me.
I also know that the Magnolia tree would still get a “hello” and an occasional visit from its favorite occupant – me. The tire swing would sway in the breeze awaiting the next visit from the great-grandkids, whose pictures be posted on the refrigerator till there was no surface left. The “thoughtful spot” under the leaning cedar would have scattered around it thoughts many and words few. The hammock would never want for company and the trees above would never want for on-lookers. The concrete table would have heard many a discussion by many a Goodwill, almost always accompanied by a cup of coffee.
I remember so much and I expect that if you were here it would not have changed much at all. I miss those times and I miss your company. Gramma, there’s so much I want to tell you. I want to tell you about what is happening in my life, about my man and my studies in The Word, how I’ve grown as a person, how the people in our lives are doing…I miss you everyday. It’s not normal, a granddaughter missing her Gramma this much this often. I pray that I end up one-third of the woman you were and still are in my heart, then I feel my life will have been a success. I’ve told many people this and I still believe it to be absolutely true – I am pretty sure I could not function without grandparents. Your place in my heart and in my life is concrete, irreplaceable, lovely, and cherished. There have been many people in my life that do many of the things that you did – inspire me, welcome me, feed me, teach me, listen to me, enjoy me – all things you did so well and so often. Although it takes many people to fill that one multi-faceted role you had, I do not lack and never have. I feel like you prepared me well for life, even if I was a little spoiled. The cavernous hole in my heart after you went Home has been filled to overflowing with experience and knowledge that would not have come without your passing.
I am thankful for everything you gave me, everything you imparted. And despite what it has felt like to finally arrive at this place of acceptance, I am most thankful that you now see life as it is meant to be – surrounded by and ever existing in God’s glory, the very Presence of the Living God. I praise God for your life, for your legacy, and for His process of drawing glory from us even when we are at our worst. To God be the Glory for you, Jean Louise – now and forever.
Be seeing you,
Amanda
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