Stay Awhile

My favorite person in the whole world was my maternal grandmother, Ruby Katherine. She was your stereotypical grandma with curly white hair, sweatshirts embroidered with her “angels” names, cookie tins full of old buttons, and an oven overflowing with homemade bread of which she shared with EVERYONE. Seriously, her mailman was one of her favorite people and he and his wife never went without Kat’s bread. She kept a calendar with all her kids, grandkids, and friends name evenly sorted through its pages, designating when she’d write us a handwritten letter. She kept detailed photo albums for each grandchild and gave them to us when we moved away from home. She volunteered with the Hospital Auxillary and made it a point to befriend every soul she ever met. She made more quilts, Raggedy Ann dolls, stuffed animals, and clothing items than anyone I have ever known. She treasured life and friendship, and adored her family. The home she shared with my beloved Granddad Harvey always smelled of pipe tobacco, a wood burning stove, and the afore mentioned bread. I can still remember every detail of that little red house on Noble, from the iron handles on the kitchen cabinets (blacksmithed by Harvey), the green melamine sugar bowl that always sat on the dining room table, the single-can-deep “pantry” behind the back door, and even the discolored carpet under the living room rugs from years of sunshine streaming through the windows. When she moved out of the house in order to move in with my mom, I walked through every room. I stood and breathed in the scents of each space, looked out all the windows, and took my time telling the house goodbye. I remember her asking me if I wanted to stay awhile longer, but I had come to peace with the understanding that a new family would make their memories within those walls.

In February of 2011, Travis asked me to be his wife. Grandma had met Travis a number of times and simply adored him. She couldn’t have been happier to welcome him into our family and never hesitated to refer to him as one of her kids. After dress shopping one afternoon, I brought my laptop to her house to show her pictures. “Grandma, do you want to see my wedding dress?” Her face lit up like a thousand twinkle lights. She was so happy for me and exclaimed how beautiful she found the dress to be. We both shed a few tears that day. I can only assume and hope hers were of happiness, but I wonder if it was also because she knew she wouldn’t be around for the big day. In the months prior to her death, I sat with her often, watching television. She enjoyed game shows and HGTV and even told me she was having “tea with the queen” during a televised moment surrounding the royal wedding. These are the moments where I did want to stay a while longer. I knew our time was limited as she was battling Alzheimer’s, dementia, and kidney cancer, and I wanted to remember every moment. She passed away in April that year and Travis and I were married in October. Her gold wedding band was tied into the handle of my bouquet and I slipped my finger into it as I walked down the aisle. I knew that Travis was going to be my Harvey. The man I’d be married to and love until death do us part. When her passing drew very near, she even began asking, “Where is that hubby of mine?” I bought a book years ago that had interview questions from a grandparent to a grandchild. I vividly remember sitting at her dining room table asking her the questions and filling in the answers for her. The one question that resignated with me then, as I walked down the aisle toward Travis, and still does to this day was, “Do you have any regrets?” She told me, “My only regret is not marrying him sooner.”