Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Blue (10/08/09)
- TITLE: My Grandmother's Eyes
By Leigh Ann Webb
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Although I did not share my grandmother’s eyes like the other grandchildren, we had a bond. I remember many a night spent at Grandma’s house, grandma’s room really, because when my granddaddy died a year before I was born she went to live with my aunt and then eventually with my parents. Her room always seemed to be effused with a golden hue. Her lamp always on, no glaring over head light, only softness and warmth. Small things are what I remember about her room. An old white basin and pitcher left over from the days when she was probably a little girl, and always on her nightstand were light terra cotta praying hands sitting on white crocheted linen. Her worn large print blue Bible that had creases on the cover from being held so often in her hand was always nearby. I believe I received much of my faith in God and my faith in the world around me from her and our quiet times together. Not so much from what she said, but just from her presence and the peaceful way I saw her live her life. She never had a complaint, not even from her hard life as a struggling tenant farmer’s wife with a large family to care for. I remember sitting next to her in her chair; I don’t recall what we talked about or if she read to me or whether I just sat close while she read to herself. All I know is that those memories have stayed with me through the years and they are precious and valuable. Perhaps, we even had a special bond because I was the first grandchild that her husband had never held, perhaps I was her connection to him.
When she passed away it was at the very old age of ninety-two. She had spent several years in a nursing home where I did not go as often as I should have. Although I knew she was suffering from dementia and there may have been times when she was not sure who we all were as we came and went by her bedside, I knew in my heart that when I took her hand she knew who I was. I could even hear her call my name in my mind. By the time she reached this point in her life, I had been married for over ten years and had one adopted son already and was pregnant with another son. I did not know at the time he was born that she would only be with us for about three more months. When Jonathan was born and I saw his face, my very first words were, “He looks just like Grandma.” Not only did he have her facial features but when he opened his eyes they were the identical blue eyes of my grandmother.
She was too frail to ever hold him or even to really know who he was, but I took him to her bedside and knew that God had sent him at just the right moment for me. My grandmother was headed to her Heavenly home and although I could never replace her, I had been granted the opportunity to have those same smiling blue eyes looking back at me. Jonathan is now eight years old and there are so many times when he glances up with that twinkling look or laughs with his eyes in a way that she would have done. I see her in reflections of photos that I take of him and often feel her same joy for life in him, and on my nightstand I have her praying hands.
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