Let me tell you about my grandmother. Picture a petite, five foot tall woman with tiny, size five feet. Imagine short gray hair and sky blue eyes. Can you see her walking fast, shuffling along much faster than a short woman should? I can. And her mind…it was sharp, so very smart. That is the woman I lost in the wee hours of the morning. This feisty, witty, loving woman. She was my grandmother, and now there’s this hole in my heart. I had my grandmother for 44 years…for that I’m grateful.
This past summer I posted about geraniums, my favorite flower. I wrote a paragraph about grandmother and thought I’d post it again. Thank you, grandmother, for passing along your love of flowers and for loving us they way you did.
Geraniums were a staple of my youth…well, at least a staple of my youth at my grandmother’s house. Every spring, her concrete pots would suddenly sprout a set of matching red geraniums. They became a symbol of my grandmother…along with her fruit-filled jello salad, scrumptious vegetables she grew in her own enormous garden, and her sparkling blue eyes. Grandmother was smart, sometimes sharp-tongued, but always nothing more, nothing less than my loving grandmother. She passed her love of geraniums on to me, and never has there been a summer season without their blossoms gracing my yard.
…Maybe it’s the geranium’s heartiness – a quality we all strive for, or maybe it’s their unique fragrance – different from so many others, which echoes my very being. Whatever the reason, I adore them. I will smile each time I see them, thinking of my grandmother, thinking of what she taught us, what she shared. And I will smile as I remember.