The Things I Will Miss

"I love old mothers- mothers with white hair and kindly eyes, and lips grown softly sweet with murmured blessings over sleeping babes."

-Charles S. Ross

We walked into Neil's parents' home after saying goodbye to Ruth at the hospital. There were little reminders of her all over the house, things that would have seemed insignificant in any other instance, but this sad morning reminded us that she had been alive and well just hours before. 

There was the completed crossword puzzle sitting on the arm of the couch. (She did these everyday to keep her mind sharp) There was the sweater she had just finished knitting for herself, folded neatly and all ready to wear. There was the cake sitting on the kitchen counter, leftover from Sunday's dinner, a final remnant of her cooking. And there was the birthday card sitting on the microwave, stamped and filled with money, ready to go out to the mailbox for the great-grandchild's birthday that would end up falling on the day we buried her.

For the past week, thoughts have trickled in one by one, reminding me of the many things I will miss about Grandma.

• I will miss seeing her perched on the end of the couch, knitting needles in hand, keeping busy while watching the news.
• I will miss her roast dinners every Sunday.
• I will miss her wonderful subtle sarcasm.
• I will miss her presence at every one of my kids performances.

• I will miss the homemade cards lovingly issued on my birthday and anniversary.
• I will miss her asking me what I wanted for my special birthday dinner.
• I will miss the beautiful handmade gifts she made for my children.
• I will miss her fudge and divinity at Christmas and her holiday sugar cookies always waiting on the planter box to go home with us.
• I will miss her freezer jam and her canned tomatoes. 

• I will miss her phone calls when Neil was out of town, just checking in to see whether I needed anything.
• I will miss the way she proudly told her friends about her talented grandchildren.
• I will miss our conversations about history and politics. 
• I will miss her BBQs on the 4th of July and her Christmas parties that brought our families together.

• I will miss the way she doted over my kids and whole-heartedly looked forward to their events.
• I will miss her quiet dignity and grace.
• I will miss her willingness to drop anything to help her kids or grandkids.
• I will miss the way she would anxiously turn to the encyclopedia every time she didn't have an answer to a question.
• I will miss her presence at my kids' birthdays.
• I will miss her Christmas breakfast.

I will miss her friendship. She had a perspective that was drawn from years and years of experience. She had wisdom that I lacked. She counseled me on what battles were worth picking, and which were better to let go. She raised children for four decades, and I leaned on her as I struggled through raising my own children. She gave us good parenting advice just two nights before she died, then called Neil the next day and apologized for interfering. That was her way. She cared deeply for her children and wanted to spare us from any heartache, and yet she never wanted to hurt our feelings or meddle. What she didn't realize, is how precious her counsel was to us, and how much we would  miss it when it was no longer available to us.

These are just a few things I will miss. I know that over the coming year, there will be reminder after reminder, of those little things that I loved about Grandma and will desperately miss. I only wish I had cherished them a little more.