Avon and White Shoulders

Day before yesterday I was just having one of those days. The days that you feel abundantly blessed but also find yourself deeply missing someone. That day I was missing my Meme. Meme, otherwise known by her given name Myrtle, is my maternal great grandmother. I was fortunate to not only have her near me through my early twenties but we actually lived with one another for large chunks of my childhood. Meme was everything that a grandmother could be. She was adoring and a soft lap to sit or fall into. She cooked better than anyone I know. She made the best tortillas that you've EVER tasted. She always had a pot of beans simmering on the stove. There was very little that couldn't be talked through or problem solved over a big steaming bowl of beans and a few homemade tortillas. Made with real lard and smothered in butter.

As I grew up she taught me many things. She taught me to sew. She taught me how to love. She taught me how to make those beans. She taught me how to get up everyday and put one foot in front of the other. She showed me strength and softness. She was always very real about the good and the bad in life. She was one to tell me hard things. She, never once, gave me even the faintest inclination that she was disappointed in me. She challenged my mind and my heart to grow and change.

For many years after her passing I felt a lot of emptiness. I felt a longing for what she was missing. She missed my wedding. She missed her great-great-grandchildren being born. And every time I thought of those things she was missing I could hear her say, "but there would never have been a good time for me to go." She is correct, about her being gone, about so many things. About 10 years after her passing my first child was born. In a quiet moment early one morning I was looking down on my newborn child and had an overwhelming sense that she was near, the room was filled with the scent of Avon lotion and White Shoulder perfume. My sad heart was lifted. I knew she was there. She was looking down at my sweet girl and wanted to let me know that she would always be there. This same phenomenon would happen after each birth. These are precious moments in my life. When I miss her now, I almost always have some sign that she is near. Perhaps it's a chemical reaction in my brain that remembers the scent, maybe it's a wayward breeze, but perhaps, it's a tiny wisp of heaven sent to make me remember that I'm never far from her. I choose to believe that it is just that.

So as I journey through this life, I'm granted small remembrances of her. I love you Meems. I miss you. Until I see you again, love and light. Come visit me anytime.