This past weekend, I drove to my Granny's house (she passed away November 2, 2008) to pick up her sewing machine and sewing machine desk/table. Yesterday, I shined up the desk/table, polishing every last inch of it, scraping off what I'm sure was glue, adhesive, gummy stuff from my Granny's many projects through the years. I almost didn't want to remove that stuff because after all, it gave it character and was part of her talents and efforts over the years. I went through all three drawers of the desk/table, crammed with buttons, zippers, bobbins, thread, elastic, needles, straight pins, a small plastic baby from a King Cake, two small beach shells, a crocheted coaster, knitting and crocheting needles, sewing patterns. As I went through everything, I thought about how many family members of someone who's passed away get to know their loved one only after they've passed away from the stuff they leave behind.
How sad must it be, for example, for my cousins, their children, and their children's children not to truly know her like I did. They didn't go through her stuff with the same care and compassion that I did, I'm sure of it. But maybe, just maybe, along the way, they learned something about her that they never knew. Maybe they found one of her bowling league pins, one of her many prayer cards and other various Catholic mementos, an old recipe, or even an old photo.
One thing remains crystal clear to me: I really knew my Granny, and I am so much the better person for it. I truly enjoyed being with her, spending time with her, most of that time laughing hysterically or discussing issues of the day in our own way or listening to her tell me how to drive from the back seat while we road tripped it to casinos in Louisiana for the day.
It makes me cherish the time I have with those who are still here and not regret anything. Not to sound cliche' (but I will), it gives me an attitude of gratitude.
-a-
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