I’ve been melancholy lately, so on a bit of a whim I took the boys to visit my grandmother in West Virginia this past weekend. It was a quiet couple of days and I was happy not to share her attention with other family members, which is usually the case when we gather with her around holidays. This visit was entirely my own, and after the boys went to bed, we’d stay up talking about all sort of random things – family stories, curiosities, books… There is warmth and safety at my Mamaw’s house, so when it was time to leave, I was back to being a little sad.
On Saturday morning there was a short bit of time after she left for a church conference and prior to us going to Aunt Gloria’s, so I took the opportunity to peek at the photos of my Papaw in her bedroom. He was so handsome and kind, hard working and loyal. There was only Jacob, my sister’s first-born, when he passed away, so of course he didn’t know five more great-grandsons would follow. In one of our conversations Friday night, Mamaw sighed and said, “He was so gentle.” How I wish my own children could have known him.
My Mamaw and Papaw had a real romance, one marked by letters and love notes that crossed states and continents. She still gets teary-eyed when she speaks of him, and I remember how sweetly he used to look at her. Even when I was a child and knew no such thing of romance, I knew there was a spark between them.
May we all be so blessed.
