Grandma's Glasses
Ever since Christmas, I’ve been thinking about death more than I usually do. I hope that doesn’t sound morbid, it’s just a concept that my 26-year-old self still has trouble grasping. I know the mechanics of it, and I strongly believe that for Christians it’s a joyous occasion, but it’s still a little hard to fathom when I sit down and think about it.
I was 12 years old when Grandma Taylor died. There have been so many times I’ve wished I would have known her better. I have and will always have great memories of her. We were over at their house all the time, especially in the summer. I can remember going over to swim and drooling over the freshly baked oatmeal cookies cooling on the counter. They were big, thin and gooey – just as every cookie should be if you ask me. I remember staying over at Grandma and Grandpa’s and eating popcorn for breakfast by the pool. I remember playing with the ceramic bears in her bay window, each bearing one of our names. I can still hear her laugh and to this day, every time I see “Band-Aid shoes,” I think of her. But there are so many things I don’t remember and even more that I never knew. Compared to others who bury their grandmas due to old age, my memory bank is much smaller but it’s just as valuable.
Before a few years ago, I didn’t have anything (to my knowledge) that belonged to Grandma. However, as Grandpa was going through things after Martha died, he found some stemware. Apparently Grandma was a novice collector, so there were far too many glasses for him to use. He brought them over to Mom and Dad’s and we split them up between us kids. I love the glasses I got, not because of the design but because they were hers. Now, when I host the Bachelor and I’m preparing refreshments, I think of her and it makes me smile.
I sometimes wonder why God planned things this way, but He knows better than I do. Plus, if I couldn’t have my Grandma Taylor, I’m glad Grandpa married Martha who loved us like her own. That fun, spunky, creative lady was always a blast to be around. I was fortunate to have two grandmas on the Taylor side that each loved us in their own unique way. I’m sure they’re worshiping together in heaven now.
I was 12 years old when Grandma Taylor died. There have been so many times I’ve wished I would have known her better. I have and will always have great memories of her. We were over at their house all the time, especially in the summer. I can remember going over to swim and drooling over the freshly baked oatmeal cookies cooling on the counter. They were big, thin and gooey – just as every cookie should be if you ask me. I remember staying over at Grandma and Grandpa’s and eating popcorn for breakfast by the pool. I remember playing with the ceramic bears in her bay window, each bearing one of our names. I can still hear her laugh and to this day, every time I see “Band-Aid shoes,” I think of her. But there are so many things I don’t remember and even more that I never knew. Compared to others who bury their grandmas due to old age, my memory bank is much smaller but it’s just as valuable.
Before a few years ago, I didn’t have anything (to my knowledge) that belonged to Grandma. However, as Grandpa was going through things after Martha died, he found some stemware. Apparently Grandma was a novice collector, so there were far too many glasses for him to use. He brought them over to Mom and Dad’s and we split them up between us kids. I love the glasses I got, not because of the design but because they were hers. Now, when I host the Bachelor and I’m preparing refreshments, I think of her and it makes me smile.
I sometimes wonder why God planned things this way, but He knows better than I do. Plus, if I couldn’t have my Grandma Taylor, I’m glad Grandpa married Martha who loved us like her own. That fun, spunky, creative lady was always a blast to be around. I was fortunate to have two grandmas on the Taylor side that each loved us in their own unique way. I’m sure they’re worshiping together in heaven now.
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