Sunday, January 12, 2014

Bobbye Jean

 the morning mama called to tell me our Bobbye had passed away the babes were awake and the day was beginning its demands on me.  That has been one of my fears since having Ender: what can I do when I lose someone I love?  I cope by completely unraveling, then silence, then more weeping, then running to some place solitaire, a tree, a mountain, under my covers.   A mother cannot do that.  I inhale deeply and go and make breakfast. 

 Cora and I made the journey home.  I thought I would be given a chance to say goodbye, but I was sleep deprived this trip.  Cora, I love her, but she is what she is, a baby girl with needs.  She did not do great at night, though during the day she was a champ, regardless, I was exhausted.  Plus, it was mama's mama who died, I wanted to go to support her.  Its funny, my Phoenix community hardly batted an eye at her loss.  Its not that I needed everyone to know and so fawn over me, its just strange to have such a big part of my heart hidden a thousand miles away, another life.   I've said this before, it comes to mind again, "my heart is fractured across time and space"  Grandma had a piece of me,  and she still has it in a place that is not this earth. 


God help me, I'll miss this woman.  She meant something deep in my heart.  I came from her.  As a child I idealized her.  She was the Queen of Guthrie and her castle was a little yellow house on Washington.  The air there was thick with memories.  People complained it was the humidity, but surely it was the dew of the town's past, my past.  I loved it.  Somewhere in all that intrigue and mystery was my story.  I'd listen for someone, anyone to tell me the tale of my family.   I strained my ears to hear it in the wind that rushes through the cotton woods, down the brick streets, under the vi dock, past the porches of familiar faces.  Grandma was the portal to my past and a key to part of me. 
She was a firecracker. 
The summers were warm and damp with a chance of tornadoes. 
Cucumber salad
Saturday mornings in the kitchen watching the Price is Right.
Exploring the abandoned hospital (where mama was born) and the ice house by the train tracks with Tyler.
Bringing Sharon her paper.
Experiencing an epiphany as a child sitting behind my grandmother's curly brown hair on a rollercoaster  just as the train of rickety cars reached the brink before the plummet. At that moment she astonished and inspired me.
Buying vegetables from the man with one arm
Coloring while Grandma watched her soaps.
Outings to the cemeteries and gossiping about the dead (God bless them)
Jumping in her water bed and forcing her to cuddle with me while she watched football. 
She laughed a lot.  She teased, flirted, had her opinions. She was the matriarch and I felt so empowered and safe surrounded by her, mama and my aunts. 

Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children. ~Alex Haley



2 comments:

Mel said...

oh, les.
your writing.
it brings tears to my eyes and light to my soul and all of the sudden i feel like i am reading some incredible memoir.
you have a gift with your writing, dear friend.
and i am so, so sorry about your grandma. it is so sad to lose such a piece of you. my heart breaks for you. i'm sorry i've been so absent in the blog world. i can't wait to read more and more of your blog.

love and miss you!
mel

Les is more said...

Thank mel,

You are so close yet so far away :) Miss you guys too. Please invite me back to your secret blog:)