My favorite thing about love; there are no rules. There is no specific pattern to fall perfectly in love or how to love. Everyone has their own story and love comes in many variations. It exists regardless of everyone else's definition of it. Well, at least in my own world it does.
If there is one thing I know for certain, it is I love this woman. My Granny.
And boy did she get love.
I don't think I've ever met someone who loves as well as she did. She loved until it hurt. It's as if her heart felt everything you felt too. She also was everything that you associate with love. Patient, kind, genuine, selfless, the list could go on.
side note* If there is one thing to know about me, I'm NOT a crier. It takes a lot to show that side of me. But death will get me every time. It's where my faith gets shaky, that unknown, never hearing or seeing, or touching them again.
Death sucks. But her death has shaped my heart in ways unimaginable. It was a blessing that was, as they all are, in disguise. Remembering Granny reminds me of the love that filled the room when you were with her. It reminds me to strive to be a better person. To love authentically, to be more patient, and not to judge so hastily. That is the kind of person I was three years ago. I was sassy, I judged relentlessly, I was slow to forgive, and I was the first to hurt someones feelings. But I've come a long way. At least I hope.
Thanks Granny... still looking out for me. I felt the way you loved everyone and knew that's the kind of love I wanted everyone around me to feel too.
I will always hold every memory I had with her close to my heart. I will never let go of how she made me feel as a person and I will try my darndest to continue to emulate her kindheartedness and love.
While the pain still lingers, it reminds me that my love for her was real and I didn't just love her cause "you have to love your family." No, it was a love specially formulated between the two of us, in it's own shape without rules, and after countless memories were made. Those memories... I will always hold dear.
but time is like a thief that
watching the golden girls, home alone and dennis the menace endlessly.
homemade sweet mac and cheese with the edges burnt
her avoyelles parish accent of "i love you my baby" I can still hear her voice saying it.
her trying to rock me (even when you are 17 years old and way to big for that sort of thing)
fixing the "mountains and valleys" after she curled her hair
watching the hummingbirds outside her kitchen window
just to name a few.
Mary Ivory Riché
January 13, 1936 - April 29, 2013