Most people from Bullock County knew or at least had heard of my grandmother. She was kind. She was gentle. She was godly and wise. She cared for other people. She was beautiful inside and out. I heard all of these things over and over and loved it each time someone took the time to tell me about how they remember her. A few months back I was working at the Grill and waited on some older folks I knew. We talked and caught up on life, quickly and she paused, looked at me and smiled. She had not seen me since I was little and she had the funniest expression. She went on to tell me she just had to say how much I reminded her of my Gram. She told me how she had first met her when my granddad was preaching a revival at her church. She was about 6 or 7 and my grandmother was about 15. My friend said when my grandmother walked in, all of her friends and she were awed by her beauty and grace. She said they all wanted to be just like her and they were so excited that the pastor was dating her. She said not long after that, my grandparents were married. My friend said that my skin was just as beautiful as my Gram's and she just had to tell me her memories of her. By the time she finished I was in tears. Complete tears. Thank you, Mrs. Locklar!
My Gram died when I was 3, so I have very few memories of her. Anything anyone tells me is like gold, and my friend had just given me a fortune in her story. My few memories are things like how she always smelled so good. She was always beautiful, not made-up beautiful, just naturally beautiful. She always had sparkly or pearly jewelry on-I still have a lot of her pieces...mostly costume, but lovely. She had wavy, short hair. She talked with a drawl. She wore the best satin house slippers and let me wear them. My mom let me keep them for years. She was good at entertaining. We always had nice meals at her house. Anytime I smell cloves, I think of her house at meal time. She let me help with things. She had lots of aprons and almost always had one on over her dresses. Things like that. And having only been three when she passed, I am so thankful I have as many memories as I do.
So when my friend shared with me, a real, moment by moment account of her, it was more than I could absorb. I had to apologize and thank her all at the same time.
And now I get to the picture. I had always seen my Gram's handwritten recipes. I had always heard about her. Had memories with her, but never any memory of her saying anything to me or telling me anything, although I knew she surely had done both. In a box of odds and ends, I found a note from Gram to me. It was a thank you note. She was sick with cancer and I had drawn her a picture and taken it to her. I do remember her sickness and suffering. I remember making her things and seeing her in the hospital. On this occasion, she had written to express her thanks. Who knew that would be the only "conversation" I would ever remember between the two of us? Not that I really remember it, but I had evidence. Her sweet words at the end of the note were worth the million salutations from her I had forgotten. All the times I am sure she kissed me goodbye and hugged me hello. All the times she rocked me or held me. All the times she brushed my hair or whispered a Bible verse or read me a book. Those simple, simple words she chose to write are now worth more than I could ever have guessed.
"I am so proud of my lovely, sweet granddaughter!"
I hope she would still be proud of me, everyday.
