Memories of Grandma

Brent's Grandma died on Friday and I'm sad to say that I don't have a picture of her to share with you. That makes me really sad. I keep vowing to be better at taking pictures of people but then I just come home with a bunch of flowers again. Ok, this time for sure.

Brent's Grandma had been sick for a long time. Her mind was gone but her body was hanging on. So, in a way, it is a blessing, but I'm still feeling a little sad today. I decided that I would write down some memories I have of Grandma. That will make me smile and hopefully they'll make you smile.

The first thing I think of when I think of Grandma is flowers. Probably because we share that love, but I would bet other people would think that too. They lived on the foothills in Bountiful where you shouldn't be able to grow magnolias or rhododendrons, but she did. I often thought it was because no one had told her she couldn't. Or, if they had, she just didn't believe them. The biggest problem she had with those rhodies was that the deer would eat the buds. So she used to tie some hair from their dog around each bud to keep them away.

I also remember one time being at their house and she pulled out every single flower magazine she had, which was a considerable amount, and let me look through them because I would appreciate them.

When Brent and I got engaged, she sat me down and said, "Now, I want to know everything there is to know about you." I was just so touched by that.

One time when I was working at Fred Meyer, I had to be in Bountiful for a week to help open a store and she fed me lunch and told me I had to come back every day as long as I was there and really, even if I wasn't.

I'm sure I'm forgetting something, but that's what comes to mind from my memories. And now for some that Brent's shared over the years that I've appreciated.

One time Brent was driving with them cross county - I think it was to Yosemite - and she woke him up from a dead sleep to feed him slushy milk (that she had frozen) and a spear of cucumber with meat wrapped around it. He was so disgruntled, but she was just worried that he was hungry.

She was never really one to be told no. When they lived in - ummm - California - I think - she wanted to take out a wall. I think it was between the kitchen and dining room, but I'm not sure. Anyway, Grandpa kept telling her no. So when he went on a backpacking trip, she knocked down that wall so he would have to fix it when he came home. (One of the reasons he kept saying no was that it was a load bearing wall so when he came home, the ceiling was bowing.) I have seriously considered doing similar things, but I always chicken out.

At times like this, I am so glad that I have the Gospel in my life. I know that I will see her again and that always makes death a little bit easier.