>I’m really not ready to write or talk about any of this yet. But I came across this paper I wrote in May of 2003. I wrote it for my grandma and it’s a little cheesy but I REALLY don’t care and I’d like to share it with those of you that care…thanks in advance…
Her voice is calm and soothing as she offers me advice on the recent fight that I have had with my best friend. She holds my hand while I sit in my talking chair–crying to her. Grandma reassures me that it will all turn out okay, shares a personal story of her past, and tells me what she thinks I ought to do. Her suggestions are always the “right” thing to do–she always urges me to apologize or forgive, she never agrees with me being proud or stubborn. She does laugh at me, though. She laughs at my opinions and my attitude, and always finishes her laugh with, “Sharlee Rose.” I will then bend down to hug her, thank her, and kiss her forehead. Her skin is always soft due to her nightstand full of lotions, powders, and body sprays. She is the epitome of woman; always clean and always soft.
My grandma means the world to me. She is the woman who taught me how to read and the one who babysat my dolls after each Christmas. She is the one that I watch “Days of Our Lives” and poke fun at the bad acting and bad story lines with. She is the one who calls my cell phone at night to ask me how I did on a test that I had only briefly mentioned. She is the one who prays for me when I ask and especially when I don’t. She is the one who gave me money at a time when I really needed it; she just knew I needed it–I didn’t ask or hint. She’s the one, who after giving me the money, told me that it would be “our little secret.”
My grandma is my grandma, it is almost as though she was chosen just for me. As may times as I tell her that, I don’t think she’ll ever really get it. I need her; she is my strength. She is the one who tells me that it’s okay for me to cry and get upset when everyone else tells me not to. She is the one who gets excited for me when I get a “C” on my geology test because it’s not the grade, “at least I am doing it and at least I’m learning something.” I can’t remember a time when I have called Grandma or visited her because I was disappointed in myself or out of sorts about something and she didn’t make me feel better. Grandma is my encouragement, she is always telling me “you’re a solid gold Cadillac!”
I love my grandma because she is all of those things: she’s the prayer I don’t expect, the encouragement I don’t deserve, and the kind and forgiving attitude that I will never measure up to. I also love my grandma because she makes obscene comments that strike everyone but me as disturbing. I, on the other hand, just laugh. I love her because she sits inside on the Fourth of July with her ears plugged. I love her because she screams the same thing 3 times before my grandpa will acknowledge her. I love her because she orders me around in the kitchen—always commenting on how nervous my left hand is making her. I love her for all that she is. She is such an incredible twist of something that I cannot even pinpoint. She’s my grandma. She makes me laugh, she lets me cry, she offers me advice, and she gives me unconditional love.
That is probably my grandma’s best trait: unconditional love. I have seen it displayed by her with EVERYONE, even when I don’t want her to. She is someone who easily forgives and always, always loves. With all of her talents with children, her sense of humor, and her sweetness–it’s difficult to imagine that she can top all of those traits and talents with her love–but does she ever! She loves her children, her grandchildren, her primary kids, her neighbor kids, and her husband.
I always leave Grandma’s house with tears in my eyes and a prayer in my heart, thanking my Heavenly Father for the incredible gift of a grandmother like her. She is one in a million and one of my very best friends.