The other night I was needing to vacate from life for a smidgen. I was emotional, and possibly even a
I soon found myself in the guest bedroom, starring up at a pink box on the top shelf of the closet. My memory box. Now while I'm not a big "let me keep every little card/trinket/whatever I've ever been given in my lifetime" kind of person...there are a few things that hold extreme value to me, and go into that very box. This was exactly what I needed.
I curled up on my bed with my dog, and lifted the lid...I was immediately overcome with emotion. You see, most of the items in my box are reminders of my Grandma Stanley. She passed away at 62 right after I graduated from high school. She and I had a special and very unique relationship that I will always treasure.
This is my Grandma Stanley.
I was her very first grandchild, and from the day my Mom found out she was pregnant, she began to journal letters to me. She always said she would love me regardless if I was a boy or a girl, but was secretly over the moon when she heard I was a girl!
She was an amazing story teller...voice inflections and all! Some of my sweetest memories of her is when she would read my two favorite books for the millionth time "Babar's Travels" and "Are You My Mother" which she use to say I memorized, because I "read" right along with her, and always knew when she skipped a page. Chance and I use to snuggle up with her on the couch as she gently swept the hair off our foreheads, and would take us on exciting and thrilling adventure's with her incredible story telling mind...but always made sure it ended with "happily ever after." Mom's bedtime stories just never could compare...sorry, Mama.
I thought Grandma Stanley was magical because she somehow made a red stop light turn green after saying, "Ab bra Ca dabra 1, 2, 3...change!" and it did. Every dang time.
One day she took me to buy a doll, and out of all the amazing and pretty dolls available...I picked Maggie.
Maggie was simple and obviously handmade, but I was instantly connected to her. After years of love, and suffocation, Maggie was sent to Grandma Stanley's for a full body makeover. She would re-sow her fingers, toes, head, and butt back on, and send her back in a box to FL with a prescription bottle filled with Hershey kisses, and smelling like Bounce dryer sheets.
I use to go pick tomato's, cucumber's, and onion's out of her garden, and she would make tomato salad with salt, pepper, and Italian dressing.
This is the last picture I have of her.
She fought hard...but wasn't at all afraid of death. I've never seen her look more peaceful. She knew. She was welcomed into eternity.
As I went through the box piece by piece I felt the hot tears stream down my cheeks. How much I missed her. I don't typically dwell on the fact that she's no longer here, because I know she's dancing barefoot on streets of gold, and pain free in her new perfect body with the King of Kings. I picked up her bottle of old perfume, closed my eyes, and breathed in her. Y'all, I sware it felt like she was right there. She always wore Boucheron. That was one of the things I asked my Papa if I could have when she passed away. Isn't it amazing how you can remember someone so clearly by their scent?
I allowed myself to be sad for a bit longer, wiped my mascarra stained cheeks, and quietly thanked my faithful God for giving me such a priceless gift. Because of Grandma, I have my beautiful Mom, and because of my Mom, I am fortunate to have the amazing family that I have.
My cup runneth over. Truly.
I love you, Grandma, and can't wait for the day that I will see you again!
All my love,
Kristin Renee'
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