Thankful For the Memories

The road I am driving on is a familiar road.  My mind is on thoughts of my Grandmother.  I was just told that the doctor found a blood clot on her hip they had just replaced.  This was the second time her hip had been replaced, this time because she had fallen at home and we don’t know how long she had laid there before she was found.  The doctor said they can’t do anything about it and they said she could die at any time.  Gangrene was setting into her foot, but they were not going to do anything about it because she was going to die soon.

I turned the music up louder.  I can feel the music inside my body, especially the drums.  I allow it to take over my mind and push the thoughts away.  I have reached my destination and see my mother’s house;  without thinking I pull over to the side of the road and park the car.

My daughter Courtney and I walk up to the house.  I open the door.  The house is full of my brothers and sisters and assorted children of all sizes.  Courtney being the curious teen with too much energy darts off on her own to see who is here.  I see my blonde haired, blue-eyed daughter flashing her amazing smile, exposing the huge dimples on each side of her cheeks.  She comes alive and very animated as I watch her mingling among the group.  She begins to move from one person to another like a beautiful butterfly.  I feel a smile forming on my face and wonder how my daughter can be so different from me. I find a quiet corner and sit down with my notepad and a pen.

The first person I see coming toward me is Charlie.  Charlie used to be my mother’s husband, but he made a comment about her money being his money too since they married.  She immediately rushed down and put an end to that but kept him around as her significant other.  It seemed today she was wondering . . . significant other what?  We call him ChaCha.  Kaitlynn my niece couldn’t pronounce his name and he inherited her version of the pronunciation of his name.  ChaCha is likeable enough but not my Dad.  He is very friendly and outgoing but he has a problem with alcohol. He is an attractive older man with silver hair and a mustache that matches.  My mother seems to like his company some of the time so I guess that’s all that matters.

I’m looking at the room and I feel like I’m being swallowed up by roses.  It’s not hard to figure out mom likes roses and rose pink is her favorite color. Pink is not a color that I like.  My mother’s house is usually in order with everything in its place.  Today, I see chaos and small children running in and out.  They seem to be coming from all directions. Now and then they fondle a prized knickknack and I see my mother grimace and put it back in its place.

My baby brother is sitting on the couch with his fiancee, Laura. My brother’s name is Justin.  He is tall and broad shouldered and blonde.  He has the same crystal blue eyes my father had and wears glasses for the same reason Dad did.  He looks like our Grandfather on mom’s side of the family as a young man.  Justin has a sense of humor I have always admired.  He has the gift of making you believe anything he says.  He could convince you that the moon was blue just because he said so.

Laura is pregnant with his first child.  I don’t know her very well.  She really hasn’t impressed me much. My mother made it clear when Laura was not around that she didn’t like her baby being taken from her. I can see my brother loves her and she seems to be making it a point to be nice to me.  She actually seems to be trying too hard.  Sometimes that is a sign that getting along with the family is important.  Laura has long dark straight hair.  When she speaks she sounds like a little girl.  I would guess that she is an only child or the youngest of the family.  Justin is the perfect picture of the new proud father.  He is sitting there with that “look” men get that says, “Everyone! see what I did!”

Across the room is my sister, Jill.  The youngest girl in our family.  She is sitting on the bar stool and swiveling back and forth.  She is very pregnant and looks tired.  Jill has always been quiet and calm.  She just kind of goes with the flow of things and takes things as they come.  She has decided to become a redhead and keeps it a dark auburn color.  She has large green eyes, the color I had always wanted mine to be.  Her smile is beautiful. . . when she smiles the whole room notices.

I picked up my pen and am beginning to write when I hear my sister Sheryl.  Sheryl always has to make a big entrance.  I hear her voice, “Joy must be having a creative moment.”  I can feel someone looking down over my shoulder.  I look up to see Jill’s fiancee, Mike. He asks me, “What are you doing?”  I explain to him that I am reading Thanksgiving.  It’s a writing assignment.

Mike has short brown hair with one of those goatees all the guys are wearing now.  Mike didn’t seem the goatee type to me.  It looked out of place.  He had his ear pierced; I believe he was trying to make some kind of statement with it . . . like he was trying to impress someone. I smiled a bit wickedly at him and say, “Your little friend has been telling me all kinds of secrets about you.”  He replies, “I told him not to give in to you.”  I assure him that I know how to get my way.  He began to laugh.  He made up this little invisible friend  as we were driving to the coast one weekend.  Jill and I noticed him feeding something on his shoulder. He told us it was his little friend.  I take pleasure in teasing him about it every chance I get.

Sheryl’s voice disrupts my thoughts as I hear her trying to force feed her husband some yams.  Rob is making it very clear that no yam is going to come in contact with his lips.  Sheryl always makes herself the center of attention.  She is 5’11” inches tall.  She has shoulder length dishwater blonde hair.  She doesn’t like the size of her breasts and is constantly telling us all that if she can ever afford it she is going to have HUGE implants.  Her voice carries over the rumble of all the other voices and I can hear her cackling laugh when she believes she is funny.  Sheryl and Rob continue their yam battle to determine who will be the boss.  Each determined to out do the other.  Rob is strutting around like a proud rooster and Sheryl continues pecking away at him with her words. . . determined to show him she is the best.

In walks Melissa, another sister who is always late.  She darts over to the kitchen to see what she is missing.  As we grew up she was known as “the informer.”  If you want something kept secret the rule is: Don’t tell Melissa!!!  Of all us kids Melissa looks most like Dad.  She has dark hazel eyes instead of Dad’s crystal blue.  She has long dark hair which is very thick and curly.  She got Dad’s thick dark lashes.  Melissa always means well but she tends to drive us all crazy with her nosiness. I believe her husband, Ivo has learned this the hard way.

How do I describe Ivo.  He is in the Navy and men in the Navy must have to invent odd ways to entertain themselves.  If you want to keep what’s in your stomach just take my word for it so I don’t have to go into details.  He has a strange sense of humor.  I like something about Ivo, maybe it’s a ginger thing.  I have come to learn that redheads are a breed all their own.  His hair is very short due to being in the Navy.  He is tall, muscular and fair skinned with lots of freckles.  The more I know about him. . . the more I wonder if I really want to know more.  Ivo always seems to find an area as far from Melissa as he can get.  Maybe that’s why they are still married.  However if Ivo seems to have more beer than Melissa allows she stomps over too him and tells him anymore and she is cutting him off in the intimacy department.  This is a little more information than I want to hear.

I look around the room and I see my brother Mark.  He has found a nice quiet spot and sits and watches.  He is a high functioning Autistic.  He really doesn’t like a lot of unnecessary commotion. In his opinion most commotion is unnecessary so he sits and judges the whole scene.  He hardly speaks a word but once in a while he feels the need to give his point of view in a very intelligent sounding computer like way. If you want to carry on a conversation with him you better have a very good vocabulary or carry your dictionary in your pocket. He is very tall 6’5″.  His hair is blonde and curly like mine but I was lucky and got the strawberry blonde hair.  His eyes are the same shade of blue as mine.  I always compared mine to the color of the ocean in a summer storm.

We found out today that Grandma may only have hours to live.  It must be written all over my face how much this upsets me.  Everyone keeps coming up and asking me if I am okay.  They all know how close I was to Grandma.  I didn’t want to tell them, “No I’m not okay.”

Mother is high strung and always nervous.  She is average height and keeps her hair dyed auburn and cut short.  She has hazel eyes.  I’m watching her move around the kitchen nervously.  She is upset with ChaCha because he didn’t start the turkey in the smoker soon enough.  She looks over at me and asks if I have written any more poems.  I told her I wrote a few about Grandma.  My mother announces it and wants me to read it out-loud.  I feel panic reaching up and grabbing me by the throat.  I went ahead and read it.  The room went silent as they listened and I could see the emotions on their faces. I took pride in knowing that I had accomplished what I had intended with my words.   As quickly as the room went silent the hum returned.  They all just returned to where they left off.

The front door opened and again; my concentration is broken. Our brother Aaron walked in with his family.  Aaron is a tall big man just like Dad was.  His hair is dark and curly, and his mustache is auburn red.  His eyes are huge and dark brown fringed with our Father’s dark long eyelashes framing them.  He is very quiet in nature and hates leaving his home.  His presence is overpowering; he doesn’t really have to speak.  You can look into his eyes and know exactly what’s on his mind.  He is a new Daddy and takes the job very seriously.  He tries to copy our Father’s way of how he brought us up.  He always was nervous by nature and I can see he is very worried about something.  His wife Janet is by his side, but Dad always said if you can’t say anything nice about someone don’t say nothin’ at all.  No one likes Janet including Aaron.

Mom abruptly announces that it’s a good thing Mark brought a ham because the turkey wasn’t done yet. This was a jab meant to belittle ChaCha.  Mom usually attends to little details wanting perfection. Mom also seemed to just be going through the motions today.  Mom is the baby of her family and I think she is wondering what will happen to her when Grandma is gone.

ChaCha announces  that Ivo was going to say grace.  The room went silent and Ivo spoke a few words to give us some thought as to why we are really here.

The kitchen was full of pumpkin pies, pumpkin cheesecake, pecan pie, lemon pie and chocolate pie and my favorite. . . coconut pie,  and of course mom’s famous yam balls.  There was dressing, mashed potatoes and of course gravy and a salad with homegrown tomatoes right out of moms garden. . . but as for the turkey?  It slept peacefully outside in its smoke filled bed.  I’m thinking that no one will have any room to eat turkey later.

I hear mom’s voice call my name and I looked up knowing some idea had occurred in her head.  She told me I should write a really nice poem for Grandma so it could be put in the paper.  I told her I would try.  The poem I read that was about Grandma spoke of her saving me from a mother’s wrath.  She didn’t want that in print.

Mom had divided up pictures that Grandma had packed away.  Grandma had tucked away little pieces of our lives and as I looked at the pictures so many memories came flooding back to me.  In the very back one of the pictures made me catch my breath. I had lost my first boyfriend and fiancee in a terrible accident.  I had no pictures of him because neither of us really liked being photographed.  Grandma had a picture of us.  Tears began to well up in my eyes; I had been wishing I had just one picture of David.  I was speechless and everyone knew by the look on my face something had happened.  They all began asking me if I were okay again. I told them I couldn’t believe Grandma had a picture of David all these years.

I could hear the hum of the voices around me again and children of all ages wandering around the room.  Toddling babies bumping into furniture and each other.  They would go off exploring and sometimes they lost sight of their mother and yell for help wanting their mother’s to come save them.

ChaCha decided that the turkey had rested long enough.  The smoky aroma filled the room.  It was crisp and brown on the outside.  As ChaCha cut the slices from the turkey the juicy white meat of the breast was exposed.  My favorite part and I was surprised it didn’t take long for it to disappear.  All that was left was the bones and two untouched legs (Courtney’s favorite part).  Courtney was allowed to take those home and she was happy about that.

We began putting the food away and cleaning up the clutter and the dishes.  Behind me I hear two loud voices.  Jill and Sheryl are fighting over the left over yam balls.  Sheryl is shrieking, “But I poked my fingers in them so you wouldn’t want them!”  I decided to run for cover in case a food fight developed.

One by one they all began to leave.  The house grew quiet.  Mark and I were the only ones left.  I stood there in the quiet.  I had been thinking all day how I’m losing my Grandma.  I thought over all the happenings of today and I began to see little bits and pieces of Grandma in everything that had went on today.  Each of us has different little traits that we got from her.  I became thankful that even when Grandma leaves us. . . a part of her will go on living in each and every one of us.

November 1999