I can't believe my grandmother has been gone a year.
It passed in the blink of an eye.
I actually missed the anniversary. I feel guilty at not having lived the moment again...not being there for my mom, who I'm sure remembered.
My memory jogged as my mom was telling me about her trip to Michaels yesterday. She went to get flowers and other stuff to decorate my grandmother's grave. My grandmother loved the different seasons and holidays and always believed her house should get a little makeover in
the form of special tea towels, seasonal candles, etc. Now, her grave gets a makeover each season. My mom said my grandfather pointed out that Halloween was my grandmother's favorite and that my mom should get something scary. We laughed, a good, soul-cleansing laugh, while on the phone at the idea of her decorating a gravestone for Halloween. "Mom," I said "don't you think a cemetery and graves are creepy enough?" Tears rolled down my cheeks as we laughed over skeletons and witches and other decorations my mom passed up.
It was good--this laughter--knowing that somewhere she was laughing with me. And, after we got off the phone, I went and hung up some of my grandmother's fall dish towels in my kitchen.