It has been a month since my Mama danced her way into heaven. I am certain she entered heaven dancing because if there was music playing (and the Bible tells us there will be), my sweet Mama was dancing the tango. She didn’t really know another way to get around. As a kid it embarrassed me, heck as an adult it embarrassed me but if I could dance with her today I would.
I miss her handwriting. She had the most perfect penmanship. As a kid I always tried to copy her writing but never succeeded.
I miss late night calls. My mom was a night owl. When ever I was driving at night, I knew I could call her. She never worried or panicked when you called at 10:30. If she was sleeping she would first tell you she didn’t want to talk but 2 minutes later she would be wide awake and chatting your ear off.
I will miss being called Melanie Jane. No one says it like my Mama.
I will miss 9:04am Texas time calls on my birthday. Not 9:03 or 9:05. Always 9:04.
I will miss hearing stories about my childhood. I am an only child and half of all my stories are now vanished. She told the same ones over and over but I loved hearing them.
I will miss her cooking. She hasn’t actually made me anything in the past 20 years but if there was a recipe or something I wanted, all I had to do was call her and she would walk me through it step by step. I never did make perfect sausage gravy. Maybe I wasn’t meant to.
I will miss her hands. She had the most beautiful hands. Her nails were always filed perfectly. If she could get her hands on you, she couldn’t help but give you a little massage.
I will miss her sweet southern accent. She spent more than half her life away but her accent never faded.
I will miss the way she wrapped gifts. Anytime she sent a box to the me or the kids she would wrap EVERYTHING inside it. When she wrapped she made sure that the pictures all lined up perfectly so it looked like once continuous piece of paper. Then she would use so much tape you could barely get it open.
I will miss the way she made you sit in the car until the song was over. You just can’t get out of the car in the middle of a song. It’s sacrilegious.
I will miss the way when she was telling a story, she would suddenly thrown her head back and her legs out and say, “awwww” like she had been shot.
I will miss watching her watch my kids grow up. No grandmother at their graduations or weddings.
I will miss her visits. Going home will never be the same.
There is just so much to miss but I keep finding the little things are the ones that take my breath away.