Brave Enough To Be Bliss

With work, everything around the house, a daughter who was now close to walking, time quickly passed, and the videos didn’t get copied. One week before Mother’s Day, I was trying to tell myself it was OK and to just send the cards and tell them the videos would be coming at a later date. I figured we would be seeing them soon either on Memorial Day or Fourth of July, so I could give them then. The grandmothers got to see Kylee more often, so I knew they’d understand, but I just had this nagging feeling I needed to get them done for Grandma Nellie. So, I waffled back and forth and finally couldn’t shake the feeling, so I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning getting all the videos made for her so I could take them to the post office and hope they arrived in time for Mother’s Day the next Sunday. Unexpectedly, Grandma Nellie passed away on Friday morning. When we arrived at their house for the funeral, Poppa Bill told us how she had been so excited to receive the videos on Thursday and that she stayed up most of the night so she could watch them all. I have never been so glad that I listened to that feeling inside and sent the videos. And I hadn’t thought about it until I wrote that, but perhaps that is why I don’t hesitate to listen to the feelings I get and follow through with whatever I am prompted to do, knowing how important taking those actions can be sometimes. I didn’t cry much back then, but I remember sitting in the front of the church during the funeral and during the eulogy Kylee began to cry. Not just fuss but cry, so I had to take her out of the sanctuary. The more she cried, the more I cried, but it was just the two of us, so I allowed the tears to fall. I was so grateful to have Kylee in my arms in that moment because even though she had n’t my grandma, she was the type of human being who was Grandma Nellie to everyone whether she was yours or not. She exuded warmth and I was so grateful for the time she had with Kylee. E ven if Kylee wouldn’t be able to remember her, there would be photos of them together and we could talk about her to Kylee so she would feel as if she had known her. And there is a big piece of Grandma Nellie that lives on through her own daughter, Kathryn, who is Kylee’s very special Gram. The piece of Grandma Nellie that couldn’t live o n, though, was her apple pi e. Not surprisingly, I didn’t like apple pie or really any pie for that matter. That is, until I took a bite of Grandma Nellie’s apple pie. Similar to my Grandma Mildred’s pancakes, even with the recipe or in the case of the pancakes, even the brand of mix, the apple pie and pancakes just don’t taste the same. I’ve wondered if it’s the pan or the water or some other ingredient as it makes no logical sense they can’t be recreated . It’s like Kylee insisting that when I frost the Pillsbury ® cinnamon rolls, they taste different, better than when she does it. So, with that in mind, I really think it just has to be the love, t hat’s the only thing that makes sense. I sure hope there’s cooking in heaven and that Grandma Nellie has a fresh baked apple pie with a slice (or two) waiting for each of us who loved her so much when we see her again. And while I’m enjoying the apple pie, Grandma Mildred can be getting the griddle warmed up for those pancakes she always served with Karo ® corn syrup. My dad recently told me he nicknamed me Parakeet when I was little, which I had heard before, but I hadn’t ever known why. He said it was because I ate like a bird, not very much. However, I do recall one morning when I ate 12 saucer-sized pancakes when I was maybe 8 years old …it’s a story everyone in the family has heard since it was so unusual for me to eat more of something than anyone else even could. And it wasn’t binge eating back then, I think I just filled every square inch of my stomach with all the love I tasted in those pancakes. I urge each of you reading not to ignore those prompts, messages, feelings, God winks, whatever you want to call them. Maybe it will be something super important that you’ll find out about like I did, maybe it will be less important, but you’ll still be glad, or maybe you’ll never know if it made any difference at al l. Whatever it is, i t’s still so worth doing . Don’t let your brain tell you what to do in these cases, listen to your heart and soul.

People need people. And hurting people need people even more.

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