A fond farewell

Yesterday my sweet Mema left this world. 

She fought long and hard with a fiesty spirit and warm love but in the end she was spent - I think she left this world the way she lived her life in it - fully with nothing left to give because she was always "spent up" for others.  Though its no surprise its hard to remember that her body was always meant to fade away one day - its the hard thing about these physical bodies - they wear out and hurt and fade but before that, and even in the process, they bless and love and serve.  My Mema used her life and body well - its easy to look at a body worn from 8 decades of life and see some bumps and bruises, see the weariness, see the weakness but I see something else -

I remember tender hands that always held a simple ring of gold, trimmed with orange blossoms and worn thin by 6 decades of wear.  One simple ring - a reminder of a simple promise "I do" that she swore over 60 years ago - words and promise that shaped the rest of her life and generations to come.  That ring of tenacous love that encircled two hearts and eventually a family.  Those hands baked cakes, hot glued, and sewed everything that would submit to her making - those hands typed (because everyone needs a useful skill) they corrected, they cleaned, they sent birthday cards, they held Rummy cards, they hugged and they held babies and somewhere tucked into her sleeve at her wrist was usually a soft Kleenex.

Her feet always willing to go and do.  From my perspective as a child I remember her feet - fresh in from work around lunch time with her high heels on, or walking through Cloth World with her Key West sandals, or walking the farm in her white Keds or barefoot dancing in the kitchen - she was always willing to go to whatever graduation or ceremony, whatever event to bless and just "be present" with the family she loved.  Her feet took her to Biloxi with her Love, to Puerto Rico to visit the youngest, to the homes of those she grew and birthed.

She had a mouth that spoke - sharp and witty, tender and sincere - and always whatever she meant to say exactly as she meant to say it.  It was framed by a smile that often was mischevious - a smile that was tender and yet full of spirit - a smile that often had a tongue behind it ready to stick out if needed.  Her lips held vaseline - loads of it that she wore as a balm - a balm that seems a secret source of comfort even for her great-granddaughter most nights.  Her words and voice still echo words of love and endearing moments - like her rendition of the Mississippi song she sang as we crossed the Mississippi river the summer I turned 8 and she took me to the World's Fair in New Orleans or of her ever so patiently reteaching her son-in-law to read and talk when his brain and body faded too early or when she talked to me years later on the phone and told me about the daily goings on of a house quieted by time but bursting with life lived well and sweet memories.

My Mema loved beautiful things but the most beautiful thing about her was not what she made - though creative, crafty or delicious but it was the impact on the hearts and minds of those she loved.  The beauty of a love of a man and woman determined to make it side by side through all of life - the beauty of observing the blossoming of a Christmas cactus or orchid and in the process how her tending and care caused the blossoming of her children and grandchildren.

I am a blessed woman to have had such a grandmother - my sweet Mema.