I know we all miss our grandparents. We're blessed to know the old people whence our parents came, if only for a little while. Sometimes the weight of the loss seems horrendous, but then my heart is lifted because the memory of them actually liberates me. I can be a bold, daring and fearless person because I saw the old timers who walked boldly through their quiet lives being simply extraordinary. Here's to every Danny Boy to every one of us.
Here's to my Great-Grandpa Smith who sang at church to the end with a voice you could hear a mile up the road.
Here's to Great Granny Smith, ancient and walking in from the garden as we drove up, laughing as she carried a 5' cottonmouth snake draped casually over the end of her hoe, having dispatched the offending creature for trespassing her garden.
Here's to my Dear Grandpa Smith and his abysmal fiddle-playing-- he loved it so, and I could never have imagined it would turn into such a delightful memory!
Here's to Grandma Smith with her quiet grace. Such an angelic woman. Heaven will not be worthy of the name if they don't have her green beans and fried potatoes there.
Here's to Grandma Bertie who was so free with the love that I did not know until I was about 7 that she was not my natural Grandmother, and she doted on me to the very end. Oh and her buttermilk biscuits and gravy will be on the heavenly buffet, also.
Here's to my Grandma Kent who I only know from portraits of her since she died when my mom was a girl, but I see flashes of her in my mom, and I know she's in me, too.
Here's Grandpa Kent with his brilliant, natural gift for music and for warmth of spirit. I can't think of Danny Boy without thinking of him.
You are always in my heart. Thank you for being worthy of grieving. I am rich and blessed because you made such wonderful parents for me.
Bless all our darling loved ones--present and departed-- on this and every day.