The anniversary of my mother's death occurred a few weeks ago, and I think G/Son had heard his 'rents mention it. He and Son were over eating crabs on my porch while DiL was at a conference, and G/Son asked me about it, saying, "Nonna, were you there in the hospital when my great grandma died, before I was born?" And I said, "No, I wasn't there." G/Son said, "My Mommy was there, instead, holding her hand." I said, "She was. Your Mommy is very kind, isn't she?" and G/Son nodded seriously.
A few days later, I was driving him home and he said, "Nonna, is your Nonna dead?" and I said, "Yes, my Nonna lived to be almost a hundred, but then her heart got tired out and quit beating, so she went to the Summerlands." G/Son said, "The same Summerlands as your cat?" and I had to laugh because my grandma really hated cats. But Miss Thing always reminded me a lot of my grandma.
Somehow, I started telling G/Son what I remember about my grandma: that she cut out tons of paper dolls for me when I was little, played the organ for her Methodist church, grew African violets like nobody's business, made delicious lemon meringue pie and a kind of candy called divinity, taught me how to sew, and sewed me a flannel nightgown every year for xmas, to keep me warm.
G/Son said, "Just like you make me sweaters to keep me warm."
I said, "That's right. I think it just makes Nonnas feel good to think about our grandchildren being warm." Then, I said, "What I believe is that whatever is remembered, does not die, so I like to get a chance to remember my Nonna with you. Maybe even after I've gone to the Summerlands, you can remember my Nonna wanting to keep me warm."
G/Son said, "Why you think what is remembered does not die?" and I said, "Well, it feels to me as if, as long as people remember some good things about you, in some way, you are still here. When I remember my Nonna making pies and growing violets and making me nightgowns, it feels to me a little bit as if part of her is still alive in my memory."
I have a lot of good times with this kid. He's got an old, old soul.
Picture found here.
3 comments:
I love your blog for the depths of some posts, which quite often mix in your family and their affairs.
This is wonderfu; -- conversations that give us the opportunity to remember something tender and simple that might have gone forgotten. I was talking with a little person the other day and told her about my mother baking meringues for us -- I had almost no relationship with my own mother and yet that memory popped up fresh and spontaneous, like a gift.
Today, July 5, my grandmother would have been 97. She died just last September but I am remembering her today. Thank you for this post.
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