Tag Archives: grandchildren

Magnolias and Memories

17 May

It’s the beginning of summer. When the air is still cool enough to enjoy being outside even when the sun is at its peak and high overhead. The wisteria and honey suckle are long since gone, but the magnolias are blooming.

Magnolias are not our state flower, but I have no idea why. They embody our great southern state of South Carolina. They represent us…Just go to any tourist jaunt and you’ll find something magnolia….a candle, a plate…a sign. They pepper our back yards and line the parking lots of nearly every place I can think of.

Magnolias = a southern state of mind.

magnolia

When my grand-precious and I take our bike rides,  her on her beloved frozen bike with silver tassels swaying from the handle bars and a fuzzy pink troll helmet a top her head, me walking briskly behind, we make a pit stop by the grand magnolia trees lining our neighborhood to drink in the fragrance. Burying our noses into the blossoms deeply, until the dream like fragrance fills our lungs and reaches our toes. They always bring a smile and a bit of amazement. Giant, bold blooms. Stark white petals, unfolding one by one to reveal the cone. The cone is a wonder all its own to be honest. Dancing with the branches, it releases the seeds (or carpels according to google) as the bloom begins to die. A last ditch effort for survival, I suppose. Hoping one of the seeds returns to ground to become a new. My grand-precious collects the seeds in her pockets as if they were treasure. “Look at this one Gigi” as she points to a new bloom. Scooping out the seeds of another to add to her collection.

I watch her and the corners of my smile nearly touches my eyes. When we first started this routine, I just wanted to point out new things for her to wonder about and to stretch her imagination. To ride around (and not over) the centipede crossing the sidewalk. To notice the way the stream moves and winds under the bridge. To see new wild flowers that were not there yesterday and wonder where they came from.

Today as I was watching her, I thought…when I’m long since gone, I hope she smells a magnolia bloom drifting through the early summer air and thinks about me.
The way I do when I think about my Gram….I can’t see a Burger King commercial without thinking about her. The lady loved her a whopper! Or the way my son does – my grand-precious’ father, when he sees a Sonic….because she equally loved a banana split and often used his visits to indulge in one with him! It’s funny the way the mind works and triggers memories.

Yesterday we were in Gram’s “neck of the woods” over on Folly Beach. We passed a Sonic and my 28 year old said “I think I had my first banana split over there.” We talked for a few minutes about Gram, banana splits and whoppers until the air fell heavy with the sadness that rises from losing someone you loved. My son said, “I miss Grandma Cox.”

“Yeah, me too buddy. But man did she love us. She loved us so hard.”
‘Yeah, she did.” He replied softly.

And so when I saw my little, beautiful, grand precious breathing in that big, bold magnolia blossom, I thought – I hope these memories get etched in her magnificent mind. When she is grown and I’m long since gone, it will serve as a reminder that she was loved. Loved so hard, and so deep, with every ounce of my being. Down to her toes and to the very tip of head. She is loved.

The way I do when I think of my Gram.

lina

 

XoXo,

Lady Chats A lot 

Deeply

14 Mar

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I didn’t realize I was angry.

It snuck up on me the way the ocean consumes the sand on windless day. Slowly. Inch.by.Inch.  Before I knew it, there was no place to sit….No way I could deny it’s presence.

I haven’t heard your voice in four years.  I think I miss your wicked sense of humor most.  They way you could shake me out of myself with something hilariously sarcastic..and the way I would laugh for days about it when the memory resurfaced…

How I sobbed when you left.  Strange and deep, from the pit of my soul, I sobbed.  It was unfamiliar and scary.  Honestly, I didn’t recognize my own voice.  Grief had stepped in to guide my ship. His voice interrupted mine…until  I graciously stepped aside.  I didn’t know how to navigate this path.  I didn’t want to.

However those days, and the days that followed, were strangely covered in a cloak of peace. It hung on my shoulders like a winter shawl, beautiful but painful to the touch.

I understood it was time. You were tired.  Your body to weak to fight for air.  Your lungs had failed you.

I could point wagging fingers at DNA or life-style choices….I could….but I won’t

I remember the way you would get so excited to have treasures on hand for T.  No sooner would his feet cross your threshold than you would say, “sit. I have something for you” fumbling with the remote to play back his favorite show, or pointing at the candy dish.

When our oldest S, came over to do lawn work in the spring and summer, you were thankful for his service…but you cherished the conversations shared over a soda the most.  Relaxing together as he cooled down from the summer heat, you hung on his every word.  We laughed when your calls for lawn service became more frequent.  S would grin, knowing that what you really wanted, was some of his time.  The lawn work was just a means to the end.   If S, a man of few words, shared any hint of insight into his life, his dreams, or aspirations, you held on to that nugget like it was solid gold.  Pleased and thankful that he trusted you enough to share.

You loved my boys…and they loved you.

When I hold this baby girl, this beautiful precious great-great-grandchild of yours….when I see the corners of her eyes touch the corners of her smile…I think of you.  I know you would have adored her every movement.

And…. I’m mad that she will never know your voice.  I’m mad that you won’t experience the love that circles in the air when she is around.

I’m mad that you left to soon.

I pulled out the old wooden high chair from the attic last week….the one we thought about throwing away a few moves ago but couldn’t. Couldn’t because it is the one you refinished for S when he was a baby. Who would have thought It would last another generation….as sweet baby girl ate her green beans, I couldn’t help but wipe away a few tears knowing her great-great grandma poured so much love into the seat that held her.

They say the measure of your grief shows the greatness of your love…..

I guess that is true.

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Rest in Peace Gram.  You loved and were loved….Deeply….

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