I have had some things going on in my life lately that have made me reflect on my grandmtoher, Phyllis. She's been gone for just over 13 years now.
Sadly, I miss her as much now as I did then. She was a most amazing person.
She had a voice like no one else I know. (except her sister, whose voice is hauntingly similar). Aside from that, her voice could soothe and heal the deepest of heartaches , yet be bold enough to make a grown man stand a little straighter after a goood scolding.
She was a woman of many talents.
First and foremost, she was a master organizer. She had to be. She had nine children. I never saw her home in any sort of disorder.
She made the most amazing cookies ever known to mankind. Funny… I don't particularly remember any meals she cooked, but I remember the treats. She made gingersnaps that would put anyone in a diabetic coma for the sheer fact that they are SO addictve you, literally, can't stop eating them. Whenever I feel a need for a Phyllis fix I bake her cookies. I'm blessed to have this piece of her.
Her voice… As her grand-daughter, I can tell you that there was no one and is no one who could read a storybook like her. Every character had their own distinct voice, every action lept out of the book and grabbed you and held on until the very end. I pray everyday that I can be half the story teller to my children that she was.
(My stomach is growling now for some gingersnaps.)
Her angels… She was a deeply spiritual person. She collected angels. Any angels. Figurines. Wall hangings. Dolls. Refridgerator magnets. She had hundreds and I loved to look at them when we visited.
Salsa and M.S….
Grandma had muscular distrophy. I don't recall her ever letting the disease defeat her. In her later years she lost the feeling in her hands. Grandma LOVED Mexican food. When all of us came to visit we'd go to the local joint. After the meal was over she would always check for extra salsa. This woman loved the salsa. Inevitalby, there would always some waiting for her to drink. Yes, O said drink. Because of the lack of feeling in her hands she would ever so carefully pick up the bowl of salsa, carefully lift it to her lips and drink down all the remaining salsa goodness. We would always laugh. We would always get just a little embarrassed, but in the end the meal wouldn't have been the same without the salsa drinking.
She shined through the face of adversity and persevered.
She was funny.
She was beautiful. She was bold.
She was unique.
She was love.
She was mine and I miss her.