She always listened to every word my 6 year old self said as I sat next to her and talked her ear off the entire Thanksgiving dinner. Going to her house meant sitting on the back patio eating pita sandwiches with strawberry smoothies and playing uno. In college I would meet her for lunch. When I was pregnant with our first she handed me a list of names that she liked, including a column of girls' names "for the future".
Early last month I had the opportunity to sit with my grandmother as she was dying. I had brought my boys with me and they traveled in an out of the room. To sit with someone at their most vulnerable state is a privilege. I struggled to tell her all of what I wanted to say, but when I told her that I loved her she would say “I know” and that was enough.
During the two and a half hour long drive home I reflected on the beautiful memories that she gave me. Then my mind settled into realization that my own time on earth is finite. I reevaluated my own goals and values and who and what was important. Heart wrenching life events bring us to our knees, but they have the ability to strip away the garbage and noise and allow us to zero in on what is real and important. She died a few days later.
I wanted to share a few photos* from my grandma's (and grandpa's) home. Her home isn’t from a magazine, but in my eyes it’s much better. She had an amazing way of adding details throughout that made me smile. The “Le Pissor” sign on the bathroom door, a hot air balloon hanging from the vaulted ceiling in the kitchen. I didn’t realize it when I was younger, but as an adult I am in awe of how organized her home is. Even as she struggled with words, she told us exactly where we could get some pictures from a closet in another room to look through.
But what I loved most about her home was that we gathered there.
*All photos by Loveridge Photography