I have days like that. I was thinking about the last time I went to visit my Grandma. She was tired and had cancer. She was a widow, living alone in her little house. She was the sweetest lady. I always remember how she had these soft cheeks and she always gave these tight lipped kisses when we left.
That day we sat and talked with her. We looked at pictures she had in a little album. She told us stories about the people in the pictures. She offered us food like she always did. She was ever the gracious host.
When I was growing up my Grandma was the wisest woman. She told me to help my mother with the house work. To never forget who I was. To always be honest. She was not a stranger to hard work. She had worked hard her whole life. When her first husband died she married my Grandpa. They worked a farm together and finished raising their youngest children together. They each knew that they missed their late spouses terribly, but they didn’t bring them up to each other. They were fully in their marriage, no reservations. They were married 25 years before Grandpa died.
One of the things I remember most about her was that she had this air of peace about her.
That last visit together she was hungry for company. You could tell how lonely she got. When we said we had to go she asked if we could stay just a little longer. I said we couldn’t, but oh how I wish we had. The last memory I have of her was of her standing on the sidewalk waving good-bye to us.
Maybe it’s because I’m getting older now. Maybe it’s because I realize how important grandparents can be in the life of a child. Maybe I just miss her. I wish I could go back and spend that day with her again. I would remember those stories. I would go home and write them down.
There are other days I would live over again too.
The day my oldest son got his first bike. (Santa left it in the kitchen)
The day my second son walked for the first time. (He just crawled out to the middle of the room, stood up and walked.)
Holding my youngest son in my arms when he woke up in the middle of the night. (We sat in the rocking chair watching the fish in the tank, swimming peacefully.)
The day my daughter started kindergarten. (She didn’t cry. I did.)
Watching my kids play sports… or act in plays… or win awards. The days we sat around the kitchen table and ate meals together… or played card games and laughed so hard!
The days each of my children got married.
The days each of my grandchildren were born.
The day I met my husband. So many others that are etched deep in my memory.
I guess we get sentimental sometimes. Some days are just so good we wish we could live them over and over. But I guess that would be like having Christmas everyday. So we get these great days interspersed with the mundane… the ordinary. Then again, looking back those ordinary days were pretty good too.