There are some random details that just stick in my brain for odd reasons. Last night/early this morning is the time my grandmother died several years ago. I don't remember the year, but I remember the phone call from my sister and my Dad. We were in north Raleigh trying to get the account on Bobby's phone settled and add me a cell phone, and spent almost the entire day (okay, three hours, not counting the time driving there) trying to get the whole mess straightened out. We were finally on the way home when my sister called Bobby's cell. The family had been trying to reach me all afternoon. When I called to talk to my Mom, Dad angrily told me to get a cell phone. The irony of it all still makes me shake my head. She was the last grandparent I had living. We were all thankful she died on the 2nd, as the 1st is my Uncle's birthday, and I can't think of much worse than losing a loved one on your birthday or anniversary.
I think of her at random times...when I'm folding clothes, or cleaning house, or when I pull my hair back with a barrette and pony tail. She hated that. I won't say what she'd tell me, but she didn't like it all. I think about her when I'm cleaning. She kept a very tidy house, and couldn't stand clutter. She'd throw things away or give things away in a heart beat. She loved to cook, and hated cooking and not having someone to share it with. I think that's one of the harder things she experienced about being a widow. She loved "the boys" (my four male cousins and my brother) and always reminded me it was my job to pray for them. And strangely enough, when I think of her, I think about that, and I do.
It's funny the things we think about and remember when a person is gone.
Happy homegoing day, Rea-Rea!
I think of her at random times...when I'm folding clothes, or cleaning house, or when I pull my hair back with a barrette and pony tail. She hated that. I won't say what she'd tell me, but she didn't like it all. I think about her when I'm cleaning. She kept a very tidy house, and couldn't stand clutter. She'd throw things away or give things away in a heart beat. She loved to cook, and hated cooking and not having someone to share it with. I think that's one of the harder things she experienced about being a widow. She loved "the boys" (my four male cousins and my brother) and always reminded me it was my job to pray for them. And strangely enough, when I think of her, I think about that, and I do.
It's funny the things we think about and remember when a person is gone.
Happy homegoing day, Rea-Rea!
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