This is the cinder block house my grandmother owned. Built in the fifties, it weathered many a storm, hosted many a Thanksgiving dinner, and home to the best grandmother anyone could be blessed to have. When you walked through those doors, she would be there, arms waving you in to give you a hug, and a kiss. She was firm, but loving, hard, but caring, and she was always ready to give advice, love, and support. This was home away from home for me, the grandchild who would come from out of state to spend the summer months.
This was the chair that held her when she came home at the end of the day. She would be up every morning at seven and out the door by eight-thirty the latest. She would visit each of her children’s houses (She had three that lived close to her.) to check them for orange juice, bread, milk, and eggs. She would rummage through the grandchildren’s drawers to search for dirty clothes that might have been hidden among the clean laundry. She would go by my uncle’s business and see if he needed her to do anything. She always made it back home in time to make something for dinner, and be in her recliner in time to watch her soaps. Never deviating from her routine, she not only taught me about doing for others, and lead by a wonderful example, she also took time for herself.
When she would come to Georgia from Miami to visit, she would clean house, cook meals, and mend clothing. At night, she would sit in the basement and watch John Wayne movies with mom, and me. The three of us would sit, share potato chips, and soda, and grandma would get her John Wayne fix. We would take her to Dahlonega, GA and she would insist that we buy her a bag of boiled peanuts. She loved those things. There were times we would take her to Panama City, FL, and she would have a blast, watching my father bug my mom while she was reading.
She would collect cups, mugs, and glasses that caught her eye. The picture to the left is one shelf of many. She had a collection of shot glasses, mugs, steins, glasses, and coffee cups. She would snag them and buy them and some were gifted to her. They are in a large cabinet with mostly glass doors. Her prized possessions, however, can be seen all through the house. Everywhere you look, you see pictures of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
She is with God now, and no matter who lives in the house, it will never be my home away from home. No more Grandma to hug me and kiss, scold me, love me, and spoil me. All the love that she filled that house with will no longer be there, because she is in heaven now. If there ever was anyone you could nominate for saint-hood, it would be her. She spent all of her life living for others. Her heart was as big as the whole family, the neighborhood she lived, and the whole world as I know it. Now, the house will be empty, cold, and lonely.