Uprooted

A lady all her own

My grandmother loved to dance, coffee with a lot of sugar, dogs.
She was unafraid to speak up for herself no matter her age, was a great listener, and spent a ton of time on the telephone with friends.
She loved college football, sweet-tea, the mini-series “The Thornbirds”.
She loved to laugh, loved good gossip and being with her family on the holidays.
She bought me my first set of dishes before I moved to Cleveland, sent me a Berkshire blanket when she found out the brutal weather there and we wrote letters back and forth for all three years.
Caring, difficult, easy to anger and easy to laugh, she cried over tenderness and would never have more than 3 drinks (2 and a half) before she turned bright pink
. These past four years I’ve longed to call her and ask her advice so many times. Ached to have her support during some of my harder decisions.
Am I doing it right, MomMom?
Have I disappointed everyone?
Am I ever going to see my way out of the dark?
I can’t guess what she would say, but even now I know she’s with me.
Her eyebrow raised, rocking back and forth on her heels; standing directly beside me and holding my hand as tight as she would when we said the Lord’s Prayer on Christmas Eve.
Loving you and missing you everyday but especially today MomMom, four years is a long time to go without you.

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