The House

Every time I walk to my bedroom, I look in the room that used to be my grandmother's bedroom.  I look for her bed and her laying in it

In the morning, when I crawl out of bed, I half expect her to be waiting in the kitchen with cinnamon toast for me.

At night, I glance into the kitchen sometimes when I'm sitting and long to see her sitting at the table, reading her Bible and studying along.

At night, sometimes I glance at the kitchen table where she used to sit every night.  I long to see her there, reading her worn out Bible.

I expect and long and want all of these things, but obviously, they're not in the realm of reality.

However, as I've made my Granny's home into my own, I've tried to fill it with little pieces of her:

-In almost every room there is a seashell (or 50).  She loved the beach and collected shells avidly.  We found so many shells as we were going through the house that we didn't know what to do.  I've tried to find a space for as many as I can!

-I have books and books and books filled in every room.  Our shared love - stories.  Every single time I would come over to her house for a visit, she would tell me about the book she was reading.  One whole wall of my guest room is a bookshelf.  I've often wondered if I'd ever have a house with enough room for all my books, and of course, Granny's would.

-In the room (that used to be her bedroom) is now my "parlor/office/library".  It has a built-in bookshelf that I love.  I've filled it with pictures and books that belonged to her.  My favorite shelf shows off her wedding album, letters she sent to my grandfather during their "courting", and a picture of the two of them.  I also have a picture of her parents, her baby shoes, and lots of books that belonged to her.

-My kitchen has several framed recipes that were handwritten by her.  My favorite being her famous strawberry cake that she made for my birthday every year.  I also have her rolling pins, china, punchbowl, and various other items that were her's displayed.  I think the kitchen was her favorite room.  That's where she spent so many hours baking and cooking and talking on the landline phone.  It makes me happy to be in there because it is the room that reminds me of her most.

-My sister helped me create a "gallery wall" of photos in my living room, and I love how it turned out.  It has several pictures of my grandmother and my family.  I used pictures I found throughout the house and some frames she already used.  I'm anxious to add to it.

My mom and I were talking about her the other day.  She was saying how she badly she missed her.  We talked about how we couldn't believe it's almost been a year since she passed.  I told her I have to stop myself from thinking about it too much.  Though her house is a huge blessing, and I adore living here...at the same time, sometimes it's hard.  It's hard to be around so many things that remind me of her.  Being in THIS house that was HER house.  A huge chunk of my childhood memories revolve around this house and all the time I spent in it.  It's a catch-22 some days.  Loving this house, but not having her in it.

I don't believe in ghosts, though completely get that some people do.  I think I don't because if I did I wouldn't sleep at night.  However, I feel her sometimes.  A cool air will pass and I'll get a sense of peace.  I know that's her.  One night when I was laying in my bed, I just sensed her.  Not her ghost, or anything like that, but maybe her spirit, or just her love that this house will always have in it.

Not just because of the house, but just because of who she was in my life, I think about her every day.  I think about what an impact she made in my life.  I think about the little things she used to do.  I love and miss her in a way I didn't understand until she died.