Ada Marie
Memories of a beloved Grandmother. I love you, Grammie.
I remember Brachs caramels in the summertime.
I remember when you made a jello mold with marshmallow, pears and coconut and you asked me why I wasn't eating any. I told you it was because I didn't like coconut. The next time we visited, you had made me my own little jello mold without the coconut. I ate the whole thing because I didn't have the heart to tell you that I didn't like jello either.
I remember when you gave me "Silence of the Lambs" to read. I was 12 and you thought it might be too scary, but wanted me to read it anyway. It's still one of my favorite books.
I remember when I sent you copies of my first published story for the high school newspaper, you called and told me how proud you were of me.
I remember how you let us grandkids sneak sips of Cold Duck at Grandad's annual Christmas parties.
I remember that long after most everyone in the family stopped calling me 'Terri Lynn' you never did.
I remember the taste of your Million Dollar Fudge and how you wouldn't give anyone the receipe.
I remember the pure happiness on your face when I stopped by your house for a surprise visit when I was driving to Colorado. It was the first time I'd ever visited on my own. You told me I was becoming the beautiful, strong woman you always knew I'd be.
I remember how straight and tall you would hold your shoulders when you walked.
I remember the sparkle in your eyes when you talked about the many trips around the world you and Grandad had taken.
I remember the echo of your laughter off the tile walls when Grandad had convinced a 4 year-old me that he had caught a fart in his hands.
I remember weeks with you and Grandad every summer. After you thought Kelly and I had fallen asleep, you would come to our room and tuck us in again with kisses and "I love you's." Kelly was always asleep, but most of the time I was faking. Those nighttime kisses made me feel safe.
I remember your off center sense of humor and that little giggle you'd get when you found something incredibly funny.
I remember after daddy's funeral, you cuddled me on your lap and kissed my teary cheeks. When I asked if we were going to be okay, you told me "Of course; your mother is strong and will always be there to look after you." You were right, but what I didn't know then, but do now is that she takes after her mother.
I remember Brachs caramels in the summertime.
I remember when you made a jello mold with marshmallow, pears and coconut and you asked me why I wasn't eating any. I told you it was because I didn't like coconut. The next time we visited, you had made me my own little jello mold without the coconut. I ate the whole thing because I didn't have the heart to tell you that I didn't like jello either.
I remember when you gave me "Silence of the Lambs" to read. I was 12 and you thought it might be too scary, but wanted me to read it anyway. It's still one of my favorite books.
I remember when I sent you copies of my first published story for the high school newspaper, you called and told me how proud you were of me.
I remember how you let us grandkids sneak sips of Cold Duck at Grandad's annual Christmas parties.
I remember that long after most everyone in the family stopped calling me 'Terri Lynn' you never did.
I remember the taste of your Million Dollar Fudge and how you wouldn't give anyone the receipe.
I remember the pure happiness on your face when I stopped by your house for a surprise visit when I was driving to Colorado. It was the first time I'd ever visited on my own. You told me I was becoming the beautiful, strong woman you always knew I'd be.
I remember how straight and tall you would hold your shoulders when you walked.
I remember the sparkle in your eyes when you talked about the many trips around the world you and Grandad had taken.
I remember the echo of your laughter off the tile walls when Grandad had convinced a 4 year-old me that he had caught a fart in his hands.
I remember weeks with you and Grandad every summer. After you thought Kelly and I had fallen asleep, you would come to our room and tuck us in again with kisses and "I love you's." Kelly was always asleep, but most of the time I was faking. Those nighttime kisses made me feel safe.
I remember your off center sense of humor and that little giggle you'd get when you found something incredibly funny.
I remember after daddy's funeral, you cuddled me on your lap and kissed my teary cheeks. When I asked if we were going to be okay, you told me "Of course; your mother is strong and will always be there to look after you." You were right, but what I didn't know then, but do now is that she takes after her mother.
...I-I am a diamond
I cannot be broken
I-I am a diamond
And I cannot be broken
You're a diamond too
I was cut from you...
"Broken" by Antigone Rising
posted by kcterrilynn at 8:05 AM
7 Comments:
that was very nice KC. you certainly do have a way with words. hope you are having a wonderful day!
Ok...I'm going to call my Gram now. Great Post!
Carl- thanks, hon. I've had better days though; the doctors thinks my grandmother will be gone before the weekend. Your sweet words made me smile, though.
Vixen- Do that! Don't let time slip past you...
This is too strange (well maybe not)- I spent most of my free time yesterday writing a eulogy. Each and every one of them is an "I remember..." Luv ya TerriLynn
Hey Ter,
Okay, your post totally made me cry out of nostalgia. :) Those are beautiful memories.
Kel- That is a little strange, but then, we're a little strange, so it fits. :) And you know I love you too, sis.
Marie- I thought of you several times while writing this and how much you must miss your grandma. I always seem to make you cry, don't I? I'll try to stop that. :)
I wish I could call both of mine but they've both passed. Anytime I'm asked who I wish I could visit from my past, it's always my grannies. They both loved me so much - you just feel it when someone loves you and they did. It's awesome that she's given you such sweet memories.
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