Letter to my Grandma.
Hi Gran!
It's our anniverary today. I look at the picture where you're grinning with some of the great grandkids stacked all around you, and marvel at God's wisdom in protecting from knowing what's to come. I'm sure we would have tried to run from it--your cancer, and fall, and passing on just a few short months later... but we didn't, because we didn't know, so I look at that moment, and think what a busy five years it's been, and it's so amazing how life changes.
Gran, I'm sorry the last few years were so hard for you. I'm sorry I was drowning, and you didn't really know how to help. And I know you weren't sure if you wanted to, or if you wanted to give me another dunk. And I am sorry about not getting that lemon meringue pie up to you at hospice. I really thought there was more time.
You taught me in that, you know. That at a certain point we find our cup full up to the brim of regrets, of moments lost, and we know we cannot, must not, will not add another drop, lest it spill over, and flood out the joy of today. I'm learning. But that doesn't really empty the cup...
So much has happened, as you've been tiptoeing around the edges of eternity. Day to day, our lives shift.
I've had three more little ones, and Heidi adopted a little girl!
Her little girl Mylie,3 and my little girl Ellerie,4 are best friends, and boy would you love them! They are sassy, sweet, adorable little things! I'm wondering if you do know them, actually. One day, Ellie was playing in the sunbeams by our front door, when something burst the door open. And I went walking toward her quickly as I was startled by the suddeness of it, and as I was just about there, she turned fully toward the sunlight, threw open her arms, and yelled, "Hi Honey!!" I gasped, and hugged her up, asked her who she was talking to, and she just blinked at me, and turned away to continue playing. It was you, wasn't it?
Connor is almost 3 and a sweet little doe-y eyed boy. His brown eyes are as deep as any of Miner descent could be. You just want to fall in when you look at them, even when he's making angry eyes. When he does this (we call it pirate mode), we'll tell him he needs quiet time to settle down, and he points one finger straight up in the air and yells, "NEV-OOO!!" and it's really hard to stay stern. You'd love 'im, I know.
Mac is the baby--well his fullname is Cormac, but that would probably bug you, 'cause you wouldn't remember it, so anyways, we call him Mac--and he is walking everywhere now. When he encounters a person, or tall flower, or lawn chair, he stops, and holds a jabbery, slobbery, joyful conversation. It's as if he's saying, "This world! It's so touchable! And did you know, there's a TON of stuff you can fit in your mouth, and it all tastes different! And my mom, she's so funny. Sometimes she's like 'Nononono!!!' And then sometimes she's telling me, 'Chewchewchew.' She can never make up her mind. And... Oh! I see something over there... I gotta go." And he'll wave around his chubby, wet hand and toddle off.
Hailey just got her driver's license. Seems like last week she was laying her binkies on a tissue on the seat of your car to keep them safe while she went into preschool. She misses you. But oh, she is beautiful! Too beautiful, probably. I hope she grows into what her blue eyes are before someone breaks her heart because of them...
And Tanner. Such a sweet, gentle, patient kid. But he's so TALL! He would tower over you. He's like, "Hey Mom... (croaking) Check it out (flexing arm) I'm like a man, huh?" Yes, Tanner. Such a dude. He would wrap you up in a hug, probably lift you off your feet like my dad always did. I know how you felt about your kids, know now why it was essential to feel their feisty, faithful, impulsive love bustling around you. I cook like a madwoman too.
Caden. TO end on Caden would probably annoy him, although I didn't do it intentionally. He's adorable in a freckly, messy hair, ten year old way. But, WOW his temper needs tempering. We're working on it. He's just ready to put up those emotional dukes, and then he regrets it. He's so bright, though. *sigh* He misses being with my dad the most, I think.
I remember coming in to the living room and seeing you cry once. Just once. And I know life dealt you sadness more than once. But I understand you, Gran, more than just being able to nail your Rhubarb Crunch recipe. Sometimes, it's just about determining that you will feel the sorrow later, to save the space in your day for joy. And so many people don't understand, can't know, what it takes to do that. How that lonely place is just so very alone. But I understand now, even though it didn't help you then. And I miss calling 849-3453 and hearing you say, Hello. Because you would understand me, without saying another word.
A million moments after you've gone on to paint sunsets--that's what Caden has decided you're doing--I hear you every time I stir my coffee and my spoon clinks against the mug. I use your sugar bowl. And I butter my saltines. When my tomatoes come in I'll have a warm toast sandwich with them. I remember you.
So. Gran. Here's to forever. Until then...
Love you.