Memphis

I went to Memphis this weekend for what could be my last visit with my Grandie. 

We don't really know how long he's going to hang on, but there's a chance that it may not be until Christmas, and that means I had to take advantage of the time I had with him.  Lucky for me, I have a great 2nd half, much better than me, who was more than welcoming to the idea of me going and him staying with Thomas.  Sometimes, his openness and kindness simply blows me away.

So I went. 

I drove up Saturday morning and spent the morning with him.  We talked and laughed and kept things lighthearted.  He ate meatloaf for lunch and had a vanilla ice cream shake for dessert.

Part of the afternoon was spent with my mother, my aunts, and my grannie at the house, picking out special keepsakes and things I've always loved:

The bronze little house with a tree that holds their keys by the back door...

The baby book my grannie had for me, the one BT looked at last night and immediately said, 'oh my gosh, that looks JUST like Thomas....'

The civil war and WWII books for BT....

The framed silhouette of me at 22 months.....

Many old and worn copies of some of the classics: Gone with the Wind, Dickens' Christmas Stories, Treasure Island...

(Have I mentioned my Grandie has a library at his house of over three thousand books?)

Their colored glass bottle collection, the one that sits in their breakfast room window, where at the right time of day, the sunlight pours through those colored glass bottles making a rainbow of colors on the other wall....

The framed picture of the Gulf of Mexico, with the sea oats billowing, the picture that my Grannie said she didn't want to take with her to Mobile when the time comes because it makes her too sad, thinking of all the happy memories there....

None of it has much monetary value, but to me, it's worth a million dollars.

That night, my mom, dad, aunt Becky and I went to dinner.  The stress and exhaustion my parents and aunts are experiencing is palpable.  I feel it too, but a little less.  I don't have the immediate responsibility of what's about to occur.  Clearing out a home, selling a home, moving a woman 7 hours south...

They are tired.  They are worn down.  But they are strong, and still, we managed smiles and laughter over dinner, and it was nice.  Pleasant.

And Sunday morning, before I left, I went back over to see my Grandie one more time. 

We sat in his room, alone, and talked of our lives together.

He talked about his childhood, growing up in Birmingham, fishing off the banks of Lake Purdy, where his momma always made a picnic lunch of fried chicken and devilled eggs....

"Tell BT the little island to the left of the center of the lake, the one with all the nooks, it's where all the Brim hide.  Tell him that for Thomas," he said.

When I said we thought Birmingham was home, he said he sees us in a big, comfy house, on top of Shades Mountain, where Thomas and any other children we may have will have plenty of room to play and be kids, outside, in the cool mountain breeze.

Somewhere peaceful, he said, because we deserve it.

And then we both cried.  Over a wonderful life, over a sad year. 

He cried telling me how God never gives us more than we can handle, but that he wished in every way that he could take my burdens away, and I thought to myself that the scariest thing about the story of Job is that no one ever tells you when all the trials are done....

We held hands.

We wiped tears.

I told him I loved him.

I kissed him.

And I drove back home.