i am always a bit embarrassed/ashamed at my writing. i reread it sometimes & think, "does that even make sense?" but it does to me. and that's all that matters. a few months ago, i wrote a story on storylane. it's a site , sort of like a journal, where you can go & write out memories, a story, or your thoughts. i wanted to share a blurb all about my grandma joan.
Her name is Joan and she is my guardian angel.
I will never dismiss the minuscule details which created my memories and consumed my thought process. I re-create them in my head, daily. . . wondering if those moments would have meant so much to me if she were still here.
"Where did you get that doll up there?" I said.
"The one with the purple dress?" Joan said.
"My friend gave that to me when I was sick." She grabbed the doll from off the shelf, standing on her tippy toes. "Here. I want you to have it."
I loved that doll more than anything. The doll and monk monk the monkey. Those were my two favorites.
The doll with the purple polka dot dress got caught up with all the other toys in the playroom beneath the stairs. Though the dress is lost, I still think about the doll every day. Just a split second of some remembrance of it all. I don't want to lose that.
I was 5. Joan was sitting on the leather green couch in one of her moo moo's. "Your mom told me you were getting good at reading. Go get a book for me and read it to me!"
I never did.
I went and played instead.
And I still regret it.
We made root beer floats. And her favorite song was "Love One Another." I can't sing that song in church without my eyes filling with tears. I tremble when asked to play that song on the piano. . . worried that my tears will mask the music, making me unable to read it.
4 memories. I just have 4.
Those 4 & seeing her in her casket, holding her hand, and saying goodbye.
I didn't understand then. It confused me. Slightly even scarred me.
I am always told that Joan loved certain things. . . the way I do. People say I remind them of her. I am instantly flattered. I am constantly misplacing my keys or purse. That's what Joan did, too. In that case, I guess I like losing them. I also love to eat avocados and saltine crackers, just the way she liked them.
I am most definitely awaiting the day I will see her again.In one of her favorite moo moo's. And then, I will read to her. The way I never did.
miss you grandma!