Some people are fortunate to have one mother in their life...I have had three.
Last night, my "third" mother passed away in her sleep....after a month of heartbreaking decline.
My grandmother was more than just a grandparent. She was my foundation. She was "my birthday girl" and the voice in my head.
When I was adopted, my grandmother named me. She picked my nickname, and she taught me how to read. I was her "pink princess" who would hide under her bridge table and serve her friends table sandwiches.
I would spend my summers with her, chasing fireflies in her backyard at night and listening to stories on records. During the day, she would challenge my reading, teach me about the Stock Market, and prune the hydrangeas in her secret garden.
She was very modest, perhaps it was because she was just 3 pounds when she was born. I always found it funny that someone who felt so small could run my family with an iron first.
She made me memorize bible verses and sing in the choir at her church. She picked my college and, she often said, she picked my husband too. :)
She always had something to say, an opinion to share. She never did care with whom she shared those opinions....with the CEO of Coke, the Governor of Georgia, or the Queen of England! She was the truest of true Southern ladies - sweet and gentle but tough as nails.
"GiGi" was an artistic soul. She learned to paint later in life, but her passion for dollhouses and miniatures began in my youth. She could make paper and clay flower arrangements for the miniature shows, even teaching me in my teens to do it as well. I still remember baking the flowers in her gas oven and the smell of it wofting though her house.
She was home to me. No matter where I went in the world, I would always come home to her and the peace I felt in her home....unless it was "Young and the Restless" time...and then one dared not to interrupt her.
Grandmommie taught me how to endure life's challenges. She lost both of her daughters, her husband, and most of her friends in her life. The pain of losing Peggy and Mom was unbearable. But she would pull herself together and put on her bright red lipstick when she went out...because you never know who you might see...
She was 95 years young, and she lived independently until four weeks ago. No one, I mean, no one, could tell her what to do. She was in charge and she lived her life the way she wanted....and we all lived our lives the way she wanted us to as well!
When I announced I was pregnant with my first child, she exclaimed - "I have waited my whole life for someone to have to call me GREAT!" and what a great-grandmother she was. My kids were blessed to get to know her the way that I had known her as a child...hearing stories from her childhood, learning to read with her, and playing in her garden.
