Memories of a Grandmother
By Morfessa
It was a happy time, a time of unsurpassed love and support from a family, maybe not so rich in money but more in values. A gentle hand would tuck my scarf inside my jacket and make sure my gloves were snugly wrapped around my fingers. A kiss on the forehead and I was out the door. Once outside the crisp cold air would bite my cheeks and nose, one of the few remaining spots left exposed to the winter's wrath. Turning back I was sure to see the hand of my grandmother waving from the window as I made my way to school. I never really thought much about the value of those days although I do believe I felt a satisfaction of sorts for the love shown me. I always envisioned that her hand would never stop waving me on throughout my treks away from home.
As time progressed I found myself still turning around looking for her hand although my grandmother, now old and walking with more difficulty, frequently never made it to that window. She knew that I still turned and looked. That was all she needed to understand her life was still treasured by someone even in her old age. And even if her hand was not there, I felt the warmth in my heart.
A time finally came when she was unable to care for herself. The decision to put her into a nursing home did not come without grief. Her home still stood as before but no hand waved as we passed by. Yet I would swear that at times her hand is there, just for a moment, when I need it most. Love transcends all and on a beautiful May day the news arrived that my Grandmother had passed on. If you ever pass that way, look back, for you may see her waving hand bestowing her love eternally to those she cared for on this Earth.
Some day I will see her waving again, beckoning me to come home to a place where we will never have to wave goodbye.
Value what God has given you this moment for moments fade, replaced by memories.