5:30am on a Saturday

2.9.13  Happy Birthday Mammaw Della!

I was up at 5:30am - two reasons for this early rising on a Saturday morning when I could have slept until the baby woke me up....
1.  I couldn't breathe (allergies)
2.  I had to pee  (should have before bed)
3.  I'm taking my conceal to carry class today and I'm thinking my gun is going to jam up as I'm doing the shooting portion.

So here I am, nearly an hour later drinking coffee and blogging before I dare get ready for the day.

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You see my date note - and I'm thinking I'll post twice today so you'll see it twice - today my grandma would have been 80 years old.

I close my eyes and see her - white hair in perfect placement on her head, porcelain and flawless skin, grey blue eyes, Barbie pink lips, dress pants (every day), and a nice blouse.  I start to tear up - I miss her.
It has been 8 years and I still get choked up when I think about her.

She was one of my "centers" as a young girl.  I spent endless amounts of time with her from about two years old to sixteen years old.  Weekend eating popcorn and watching Who's The Boss and Growing Pains and Life Goes On.  Sunday mornings chewing gum and writing on the bulletin together at church.  Countless trips to a little Walmart store to get ICEEs, the dime store to get crayons, Wendy's to get double bacon cheeseburgers.  Hours that would account for years of eating in her kitchen - all that good southern comfort food only she could fix right.  Trips to the mountains.  I smile because all my memories are good.  I cannot remember one bad memory that involves her except the last memory - the last memory that seems so tainted.

The calls on my cell phone at 2am, 4am, 5am - all missed where my dad was speaking in a tone I didn't readily understand but then again I did...."Call me."  "______ call me as soon as you get this."  "You need to call me" -  Finally at 7am I dialed his number and I didn't get a greeting of hello, hey there, what are you doing, where are you at?  My greeting was, "Brownie, Mammaw died."  I fell to the ground, my brain not totally processing the words and my emotions busting out of every capillary in my body.  No, what, why, how, where, no, no, NO, NO, NO.

My last memories of her fell over three days.  A drive back to my hometown.  I was dazed and singing to a CD my friend had burned me.  I wanted to get home so fast but I realized as I drove - getting home faster means getting home to a house where she is no longer sitting and waiting on me.  Getting home fast means I'm going to sit in her kitchen and she won't be at the stove top.  Getting home fast means no more sitting in the front yard chatting and watching cars go by.  To hell with getting home fast.

My lead foot was feather light.

I started talking to God.  He didn't hear from me a lot back then.  He was a figment of the imagination in my book.  I was mean to Him.  I said things that were so bad, so cruel, so human.  "You suck.  I hate you.  Why did you do this?  F you."

Then as the tears filled my eyes on the side of Interstate 40 I pulled over to blue lights behind me.  A State Trooper - a big monster of a man - I rolled down my window in tears, sobbing.

"You aren't crying because I'm at your window.  You're crying for another reason." That's what he said to me.  I was expecting a harsh - DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU WERE DOING WRONG?

I just looked at him and cried harder and more uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry.  My grandma died and I'm on my way to __________ to be with my family.  I'm sorry."

"You need to stay off the road and let yourself get back together in one piece.  You were going too slow for the traffic.  I'll stay parked behind you.  You'll be ok.  Just pull yourself together and get home safe."

It hit me later....

The young twenty something who was bulletproof and spent fifteen minutes telling God what a piece of crap He was - was put in her place by a trooper who just stopped her to see if she was ok....she was going too slow.

I had never heard of anyone truly being stopped for going too slow.

I cussed him and he sent someone to check on me.  Someone to show me in some odd DOT/DMT approved way that I was ok and would be ok. 

Those blue lights flashed behind me as I took my time straightening myself up and wiping my snotty nose.

Thinking about my mammaw - she'd probably say the same thing - "You'll be ok.  Just pull yourself together and get home safe."

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Her death was the begining of a healing and understanding process in my soul that continues.  Her life was precious and amazing to me.  She was a huge force of love and care for a growing girl.

Today as I wish that she could still be here to celebrate my children and love on them - I realize that they can see her in me - my love for planting, my adoration for cooking, my constant housework (eeek), my faith.

Today I celebrate her.

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Until we meet again -


Brownie