On my nightstand are two figurines that were given to me 3 years ago. One from a friend at my grandma's funeral of an angel called "angel of remembrance". Another is a beautiful woman in a pink dress with the breast cancer ribbon down the side. Both of my grandmas were survivors of breast cancer within just a few years of each other, so this figurine is a beautiful reminder of both strength and courage. My mom's mom is still a strong survivor and one of the most caring people I have ever met. She has a heart of gold. My dad's mom was a survivor of breast cancer, but unfortunately passed away 3 years ago (October 3, 2008), from a heart attack and stroke and had just been diagnosed with liver cancer.
So as I was cleaning this afternoon, I put the figurines back on my nightstand and looked at them for what they are to me. They are reminders of how blessed I was to have 26 years with my Memaw (and still going on 30 years with my Ma). They are memories of visits, phone calls, hugs, and kisses. They are the smell of my Memaw's Christmas dinner and the dumplins my Ma makes at Thanksgiving.
It's hard to believe that we are approaching 3 years of when my Memaw got her wings. I usually struggle this time of the year because at this time exactly 3 years ago was the beginning of a 7 week rollercoaster ride that will forever live in my heart and in my mind. I saw things that I never would've imagined that I would and did things with my Memaw that I would never want to live without. Nothing is harder than watching someone you love with all your heart slowly change over 7 weeks to having a stroke that left her speechless the last 2 weeks to seeing lifeless eyes on the last visit. Each weekend became precious and the next visit was uncertain.
When my Memaw first passed away, she would visit me in my dreams frequently over the first 8-10 months. They were always of her laughing, strong and healthy and young and vibrant. But they became less and less, and now I only see her once, maybe twice a year (if I'm lucky), and after really thinking about these figurines this afternoon, it made me sad. I wish she could see where I'm at in life as I approach 30 (granted, she'd still be settling for a great grandpuppy haha). I'd love for her to know that I was learning to play fiddle again. But most of all, I wish I had more chances to soak her in. And then it made me think (side note: you get me started on one thought and it snowballs! I'm a deep thinker, some times too much for my own good lol) - why am I sad? Who am I really crying for? It's not for my grandma. I'm crying for myself because I want more of her, more of her time and more of her hugs. But if God said "well ok then" to my selfish requirement - she would be miserable and even more sick than she was.
Losing her taught me a lot of about not taking life (people's lives) for granted and taking time out of life to stop and let those I love know that I care. We can get way too caught up in life, and some times we need to take a break and actually live. We need to stop for that phone call or visit. It's sure to be a memory that we will never regret nor forget.
