I loved my Granny. She was my dad's mother, and the only grandmother I ever knew. She was raised in rural East Texas, and never ventured far from her roots her entire 92 years on this earth. She traveled to Dallas a few times, as well as Austin, but that was about it. Granny also never drove a car, which is amazing to consider in this day and age. She was the youngest of four children, and the closest in age to her - her sister, Ruth - died at the young age of 19 during childbirth. Granny talked a lot about Ruth, and I think she missed her throughout the rest of her life.
Granny was synonymous with cooking. I can still taste her chocolate roll, her candied sweet potatoes, and her banana cream pie. Cooking everyone's favorite things was her love language, and so on holidays we would have at least as many desserts as people who were there. There was always talk about how the table just wasn't big enough to hold it all, and Granny loved that. She shared some of her recipes with me, but since she cooked mostly without anything written down (a dash of this, and a dollop of that), my renditions of Granny's dishes just never taste as good. Christmas was always spent at Granny's house, and all of that cooking she did produced tons of dirty dishes, but Granny didn't have a dishwasher. The rule of the house was always that the kitchen had to be cleaned up before presents could be opened, and that rule was torture to Granny's four grandchildren when we were younger.
When I got old enough to drive, I loved to go over to Granny's house to have a visit with just the two of us. Those visits became longer and more frequent when my parents moved out of state, and I was living on my own. I would go spend the day with her, use her washer and dryer, and, of course, eat her cooking. I'll never forget the one day I dropped by unexpectedly, and she had just taken a coconut cream pie out of the oven. I asked if she was having company, and she said, no - she made that for herself! That was my Granny. Granny always told me I was her favorite, and I really believe she meant that. Of course, she may have told the other grandkids the same thing, and they believed her, too.
Granny suffered a lot of loss in her life. I already mentioned her sister, and she also outlived her other siblings, and of course, her parents. My PawPaw, Granny's husband, died when I was 13. Then Granny's youngest son, my Uncle Bill, died at the age of 64 from cancer. A few short years later, her only surviving child - my daddy - died as well. When my daddy died, Granny was in a nursing home, where my dad would visit her daily, sometimes multiple times a day. The day following his accident, it fell to me to go tell Granny about his passing. That was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life.
Granny lived just a few years after my dad passed away. In her final years, her mind was not as sharp, and there were days I would visit her when she didn't really know who I was. That was hard for me. But I enjoyed the humorous times with her as well - like the day I insisted on taking her outside because it was a beautiful spring day, and she reluctantly got into the wheelchair before asking me if I was a good driver. That same day, she told me I was pretty and asked me if I had a boyfriend - at that point Jeff and I had been married for about 15 years. The day Granny died I was there, and it was a long, difficult day. She had seizures throughout the day, and was completely unresponsive. I felt a great sense of relief when her soul finally departed her body, and I told my brother that Granny probably said, "Phewww! I'm glad that's over!" I'm glad I was there, though, and I would like to think that Granny knew of my presence. I would also like to think she heard me tell her how much I loved her, and that she knew and felt when I kissed her on the cheek as I told her goodbye for the last time. But I try now not to think much about that last day. Instead, when I think of Granny I like to remember walking into her house, and seeing that big smile, and hearing her say, "Well, look who's here!" I like to remember her little chuckle of a laugh, the way she adored Jeff, and how she loved my kids.
I'm thankful for my Granny, and loved her deeply. Without her, I literally wouldn't be here, but that much is obvious. I'm most thankful that she laid the foundation for my dad's strong faith, which grew to it's fruition as he served in two different congregations as an elder. And as a result, he taught his children, who are teaching their children, who will teach their children . . . the influence of one can be far-reaching. From Granny I also learned that family traditions are important, and make a lasting impression. I miss my Granny, but was blessed to have her in my life as long as I did. And I hope if she could see me now, she would still call me her favorite.
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