Grandma Dot

I know I posted my sister's blog about the memories she had of our Grandma Dot, but I feel the need to write as well.  Mostly because it is the best therapy for me...writing.  Dumping my thoughts onto paper somehow helps me to cope with the emotions running through my mind and spirit.  I loved her so. much.  It pains me mostly to think that she is no longer here on this earth with me...to share in my life experiences.  Even though I moved away from where she lived and where I grew up in her yard and in her house every summer I still felt like I had a connection that would live forever no matter where we were.  She was always just a phone call away.  She always loved hearing my voice on the phone, and I so loved getting to tell her about my day or life event.  She didn't care how long and drawn out my stories were, she didn't mind that I probably rambled on about tiny details because she truly wanted to know all the things I had to say.
Almost a year ago she had a stroke.  It was the beginning of the end of her life, and we all knew this.  She was a fighter almost to the day she died, and I hate that she had to suffer for so long.  I hated it so much I couldn't bear to see her the last few weeks of her life.  I just couldn't have the last images of her being so sick.  She was so strong her whole life and I think I needed that image to be the one I remembered.  I did go see her before she was buried, and it was a shock to my emotions.  I knew she had lost weight, I knew she wasted away to almost nothing, but seeing it for myself was a haunting image.  The skeleton that was lying there was not my Grandma Dot.  This was not the woman who raised 3 incredibly strong willed children.  This was not the woman who took care of 5 grandchildren all at once for years of her life.  This was not the Grandma who gave strong hugs and made you eat your peas (yes even the shriveled up ones).  I am fighting to forget that image, and to only think of the Grandma I spent summers at "the trailer" with (an RV park at Lake Tansi in Crossville, TN).  The Grandma who taught me how to cross stitch, how to thread a needle, how to color inside the lines, how to mix paint to make the perfect shade of purple, how to dig the right sized hole for a plant, how to get the gel from an aloe plant for a burn, that rain water is always the best water to use on plants, that you are a lady when you can put on your own pantyhose, and you are a woman when you discover what it means to "put on your big girl panties".  The best way to quit smoking is cold turkey and a lot of Trident cinnamon gum (not that I smoke, but if I did this would be the way to quit).
That it's ok to use color when decorating your house, and most importantly if the art work you display is made by you or a loved one, you will never grow tired of looking at it.
I don't think I realized how much I learned from her until I knew I wouldn't have her in my life much longer.  I know she loved me for me, I didn't have to prove anything to her or earn her pride.  I am a lot like her I think, and I hope that I can carry on the things she has taught me for my children and my (hopefully) future grandchildren.  It has been a strange few days knowing she's not here anymore, and it will take some time for me to get used to that.  I am thankful she was able to see me become a mother, and to meet my girls before she left this earth.