Took some flowers by my grandparents grave today. When I was small we would go weekly out to Pleasant Point cemetery and grandaddy would rake and mow the family graves and grandmama would wash the headstones and put flowers on them. She would use Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup jars filled with he fresh cut flowers. She told me it reminded her of Aunt Lou who worked for her daddy and helped raise them. Her mom died of the flu not long after my great aunt Cora was born. She left five kids, grandmama being one of them.
I would sit beside my great grandmama’s grave while grandmama told me about her. She was also named Cora. I’d listen to grandmama tell stories of her brothers and sisters (two had also died not long after her mom) and soak up those stories. I can still go grave to grave out there and remember what I was told about them. One was called Cousin Carrie who never married and was a health nut way before her time. She would run up and down the stairs for exercise and grandmama said she would order “tonics” out of catalogs.
She would tell me stories of her mama, her daddy...of her aunts and uncles. I loved it. I may not know where I’m going but thanks to her I sure know where I came from. I didn’t know it then but she was guiding me on a path of loving stories and the emotions and joy that they give me. I didn’t have a Mrs. Butterworth’s jar today. Bought some artificial flowers from the store. I guess they were more for me than for them. Memories are gifts. Those stories are gold. Good grandparents are sent from God. Have a good one!
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