My maternal grandmother would have celebrated her 90th birthday February 20. I think about how much joy my girls would have brought her and how much love she would have showered on them. She died in February 2000, though, the year before I got pregnant with Miss C. S
he loved her dogs, drinking Diet Pepsi, reading romance novels, and spending the days in her sewing room. She always called me “honey” and she taught me the joy of hunting for four-leaf clovers and pressing them in my Bible. She was ever so proud of her beautiful backyard rose garden and she never failed to have a rose in a vase in the kitchen and candy orange slices in a candy dish on her coffee table. She’d hold me tight and rock me when I was little and sing “Go Tell Aunt Rhodie.”
When I went away to college she was dilligent about sending me cards, for no particular reason, just because, and she’d always stick a $10 bill inside (for gas money or groceries, she’d write) and she’d sign the cards “I Love You, Grandma” with pencil in her distinct cursive writing.
She made handmade outfits for my Barbie dolls and sewed my first tooth fairy pillow from yellow and white gingham material. When my beloved stuffed Snoopy had seen better days, she cleverly fashioned a pink “collar” for him from an old belt. She quilted as long as I can remember and lovingly made baby quilts for her grandchildren, even those of us, like me and my brother, who were single at the time. She wanted to pack the baby quilts away for great grandbabies that hadn’t even been born yet because arthritis was slowly crippling her hands. That’s just the kind of grandma she was.
I’ll never forget when she told the hubby, shortly after he proposed, that she’d chase him down with a stick if he ever mistreated me. And, despite being less than five feet tall, I know she wasn’t joking.
The Mommybloggers are having a Rumble O Love in honor of Valentine’s Day! Check out their site for more stories on love.