All day long yesterday, my maternal grandmother was on my mind. Today it dawns on me that it was her birthday, and would have been 100 years old. She passed in May, 10 years ago. I gave her eulogy. It was one of the saddest days of my life, but I was proud to do it, especially since the room was packed, something you do not normally see when a person reaches nearly 90 years old, a testament to the love she brought in and gave out. I miss her daily in some small way, but, was blessed to have in many large ways. She was a huge part of what created the good parts of me, many of which I try my hardest to pass on to my sons.
In my head I hear her singing Edith Piaf in her native French ( I had no clue at the time) or “Playmate, come out and play with me…..” She taught me to fish, taught me to shoot and to “not go out with a wet head or I’d catch a “cole” ( Nat King?)…
As I got older and drove to see her, she and my grandfather ( though she would outlive him by more than 20 years) would be sitting outside if the weather was good, flyswatters in hand and “there’s our boy” as I walked up. I can’t think of a more comforting thing to hear in my head.
Whatever lies beyond is beyond my comprehension, however, experiences like this make me feel part of something larger. All through a subconscious memory of a tiny French woman 🙂
Thelma Florian. Mon Petit’ Mimi. ( I hope I got that right..