Today is the anniversary of my grandmother’s death. She was born in the 1890s and lived to be 93 years old. She was patient and infinitely kind and oozed love and sweetness. To be a child and come downstairs in the morning, the steps creaking in my grandparents’ brick story-and-a-half on Gresham Road in Louisville, Kentucky, and to smell the biscuits in the oven, and to walk my sleepy self into their knotty-pine kitchen and see her turn and set her soft brown eyes on me and greet me with, “Dahlin’,” drawn out nice and slow so I’d get the full meaning, well. Those were moments with one foot in heaven, to be in the presence of that kind of love.
How lovely your grandmother was and how beautifully you invoke her memory. I'm so sorry for your loss.
I want to say the names of my dear friends Claire and Cindy. Claire died of cancer in December right after her 47th birthday and Cindy died of cancer a few days ago at the age of 62. Bright, shining stars of women gone far too soon and leaving loving daughters and family and friends behind them. I can't believe they're gone.
Having her named Stanley reminds me of the C&W song "My name is Sue".. At least you are left with deep affection for your beloved Stanley
I'm starting to believe that these folks are still with us. I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and sense the presence of my mother. You are in the stream of eternal consciousness with Stanley. She must be smiling to read your article.
Aaaaaah, your oh-so-blessed Stanley to have had you in her world, and vice versa. Your description reminds me of my own Mamaw, a term that I once heard has southern, even perhaps Appalachian origins, which reminds me that I have no clue as to why that’s how I referred to my Italian-American grandmother in South Philadelphia. Perhaps because, as sing the Indigo Girls, “when God made me born a Yankee he was teasing.” Grazie mille for creating such a lovely portrait of your grandmother and the palpable love you shared.
Such a beautiful testimony to your grandmother, Rebecca…thank you for sharing! I lost my grandmother when she was 94. She was like a second mom to me and I spent many of my teenaged hours helping her in the garden, milking the goats and helping with all the chores that come with a small, rural plot of land. It was precious time and helped forge indelible memories. I pity those who do not, or can not, spend time with their elders, whether by choice or by accident of geography.
Grandparents are so special and important in children's lives. I still miss mine every day (especially my Mom-Mom) and I completely agree they're not that far away. Just the other night I dreamed about my Pop-Pop giving me the warmest hug and when I woke up, it felt like he'd been here. I'm pretty sure he was.
if love is in the details, i can FEEL and TASTE and SMELL your beloved Stanley. Gorgeous, Becca -- thank you for this!
How lovely your grandmother was and how beautifully you invoke her memory. I'm so sorry for your loss.
I want to say the names of my dear friends Claire and Cindy. Claire died of cancer in December right after her 47th birthday and Cindy died of cancer a few days ago at the age of 62. Bright, shining stars of women gone far too soon and leaving loving daughters and family and friends behind them. I can't believe they're gone.
Having her named Stanley reminds me of the C&W song "My name is Sue".. At least you are left with deep affection for your beloved Stanley
I'm starting to believe that these folks are still with us. I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and sense the presence of my mother. You are in the stream of eternal consciousness with Stanley. She must be smiling to read your article.
Aaaaaah, your oh-so-blessed Stanley to have had you in her world, and vice versa. Your description reminds me of my own Mamaw, a term that I once heard has southern, even perhaps Appalachian origins, which reminds me that I have no clue as to why that’s how I referred to my Italian-American grandmother in South Philadelphia. Perhaps because, as sing the Indigo Girls, “when God made me born a Yankee he was teasing.” Grazie mille for creating such a lovely portrait of your grandmother and the palpable love you shared.
For our ancestors who pour into us the kind of love that sustains us and makes us believe in ourselves....so much thanks.
Thank you for sharing Stanley with us.
I miss my Big Mama and PaPa. Miss the farm and sitting on top of the storm cellar. Fishing in the ponds and having outdoor fish fry’s.
But mostly I miss my dad-Nyle. He was taken from us way too soon.
Beautiful post Rebecca! Thank you!
Beautiful, Becca. Too many to mention anymore but will say their names.
Such a beautiful testimony to your grandmother, Rebecca…thank you for sharing! I lost my grandmother when she was 94. She was like a second mom to me and I spent many of my teenaged hours helping her in the garden, milking the goats and helping with all the chores that come with a small, rural plot of land. It was precious time and helped forge indelible memories. I pity those who do not, or can not, spend time with their elders, whether by choice or by accident of geography.
Grandparents are so special and important in children's lives. I still miss mine every day (especially my Mom-Mom) and I completely agree they're not that far away. Just the other night I dreamed about my Pop-Pop giving me the warmest hug and when I woke up, it felt like he'd been here. I'm pretty sure he was.