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A Letter to My Gram

A Letter to My Gram
Being Sad and Mad
     Our name for her was “Gram”.  She was my mother’s mother who was born September 3rd, 1926 and adopted from an orphanage in Los Angeles when she was 5 years old.  Her adoption records are sealed and so we might never know who her birth parents were, but the couple that adopted her were ever so kind and she grew up with loving parents in a beautiful home with lots of opportunities.
Gram with Cute Dog
     She married, had four children, two girls and then two boys with a big gap between the girls and boys.  For example, my uncle was in kindergarten when I was born and he had to bring something to class that started with the letter ‘B’.  He brought me because I was a baby!   She had a love for horses, dogs, and cats and made the best snickerdoodles you ever tasted.  She always had cars that were fast and usually red even though she didn’t drive them fast.   She didn’t have a lot to say, but I loved it when she laughed.
Gram Dog Lover
     Her house was always neat as a pin.  We visited her more often as children and she always came to our house for Christmas bringing McDonald’s gift certificates for all of us.  I have pictures of her at a few special occasions such as my 8th grade graduation and when I was first married.  I remember meeting her for lunch at the Smorgy or The Depot in Oroville, CA for lunch.
     She was not what I would call a playful grandma like my mother is now for her grandchildren.  In truth, it is because my Gram was not very involved that I believe my mother has been so determined to be in her grandchildren’s lives and is doing an incredible job…she makes me exhausted!  Being a new Gram myself, I appreciate her efforts even more.
     This last Sunday morning I received news that my Gram had passed away.  I was surprised that I was sad.  I was more surprised that I was mad.  Over the last 15 or so years, my Gram had alienated every single one of her family members and any friends she may have had.
     I am mostly sad over the years that were already lost.  I am mad that she let this happen.  I am confused because I simply don’t understand it all.  I’ve sent birthday cards every year, emailing her on her birthday as well.  I sent Christmas cards, all with no response.
     There will not be a funeral, no one would come.  She pre-paid to be cremated and have her ashes spread over the fields where some wild horses roam around the place she last lived.
     In the wake of her passing the last few days, I have thought much about the circumstances that brought her to such a sad place.  How awful it must have been to lead such a small and selfish life.  It also got me thinking about all the good she brought into this world.
     She was an excellent mother to her children.  She sewed beautiful dresses for my mom and aunt.  She took them on camping trips and supported them in all they did.  My aunt had excellent advice to remember her how she was and not who she became.  On that note, I add a story she wrote to her granddaughters when I was 12 years old.  It shows how much she cared in those days to be a wonderful Gram.
Gram, Mom, Lauri, Kids
     She was my last living grandparent.  I am her first grandchild and oldest granddaughter.  I am here because she lived.  I am grateful for her love of life in her younger years.  I am grateful for her quiet moments.  I am grateful for the afghan she crocheted for me.  I am grateful for a couple pieces of jewelry she thought to give me about 20 years ago.  I am grateful for her talent in the kitchen and what I hope I have inherited of her talent for storytelling.
     Thank you for being patient as I write this on my blog this week.  I promise to have some more uplifting thoughts next week, but such as in life, there are ups and downs.  Please take a moment after reading my Gram’s little story, The Day My Dolls Danced, and get in touch with someone you haven’t talked to in much too long.  You know who it is…please do it.  Leave a mark…no, leave a legacy.
May 13, 1983
To my sweet granddaughters:  Lauri, Holly, Heather & Sarah.
In this, the Springtime of your lives, may you still enjoy a fairytale.
Much love from your “Gram”

THE DAY MY DOLLS DANCED

It had been a long and busy day but the house sparkled and the clothes were washed and put away.  There was an apple pie fresh from the oven, warm and spicy, for special dessert that evening.  There was some time left before I needed to start dinner so I decided to take a little rest.  I went into my bedroom, took off my shoes, closed the drapes and lay down on the bed.
As I always do before closing my eyes, I looked at each of my little dolls, 14 in all, that stood on the shelf above my vanity.  There was another larger doll that stood on the vanity.  They were all dressed elegantly in long gowns of pink, blue, green, yellow, and lavender and I had given each of them a name;  Jasmine from Japan, Heidi from Holland, my Irish girl Colleen, Cherie from France, Ann from Israel.  Joining them were Leah, Honey, April, Sarah, Shirley, Lauri, Heather, Sunshine, Holly and my tall Southern Belle – Elaine.  They were my little girls, dainty and sweet and beautiful.
My eyelids grew heavy and just as I was drifting off to sleep I heard faint tapping sounds coming from where my dolls stood on the shelf.  To my astonishment, the tiny ladies had come to life and are taking off their shoes!  I wondered if perhaps I were dreaming but I lay very still and waited to see what would happen next.
After each girl had removed her shoes she placed them side-by-side in the exact place that she stood on the shelf.  Then one-by-one they tiptoed to the ends of the shelf and let themselves down the turned posts on either side of the mirror to the vanity below.  Each girl in turn went to a small cart of silk flowers that stood on the table, selected a flower that matched the color of her gown, and laid it at the feet of Elaine, as though she were their queen.  Elaine smiled and nodded to each lady in acceptance of their tributes.
After their acknowledgement to their queen, the girls became carefree and playful, darting among the bottles of perfume and playing hide-and-seek with one another.  While they were occupied with their games, I very quietly turned on my radio to music that seemed to match their bright spirits.  They were startled and seemed almost fearful at the sound.  Then, quite suddenly, my vanity became their stage and I was about to become an audience of one at a Ballet of the Dolls!
Their tiny bodies moved with charm and grace and their joy at dancing was reflected in the sweetness of their faces.  I was completely absorbed in the performance when suddenly, outside, a dog barked rudely.  The dancing ended abruptly and the little ladies glanced my way, but I stayed very still.  I was hoping they would decide it was safe to continue to dance, but the spell was broken.  They scurried to put everything back into proper order.  One-by-one, they returned to their Queen Elaine, curtsied and picked up the flowers and put them back in the cart, then made their way up the turned posts to the shelf.  Each girl returned to her own pair of shoes, slipped them on, smoothed her gown and hair, smiled sweetly at their queen, then became motionless once again.
Quietly I turned off the radio and marveled at the sight I had just been privileged to see, and hope that sometime I will see them come to life and play and dance on my vanity once again.  Perhaps I had just dreamed the whole interlude.  It would be quite fantastic to see dolls come to life and dance on the vanity.  It must have been my imagination working overtime.
Several days passed and one evening as I prepared for bed, I noticed a tiny object lying on my vanity.  I picked it up and discovered that it was a shoe!  I was very excited because I realized that I hadn’t been dreaming and it wasn’t my imagination and that my little ladies did really come to life after all!  I laid the tiny shoe carefully on the shelf above, turned off the light and went to bed.  I wondered if, perhaps, they would dance this night.
The next day was house-cleaning time and as I reached up to dust the shelf where my girls stood, the little shoe was not there!  I carefully picked up each doll and to my amazement, their shoes were all on their feet!  They had indeed come to life and danced again while I slept.  I felt a little sad that I hadn’t seem them.  However, my ladies had known that once I had watched them dance and play, for as I turned to dust my radio, there, lying on the top was a lovely silk flower, a gift from my little girls!
The Gift

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