day 34: a flood of memories

How is it that one simple song can trigger memories like a flood rushing over your heart, and everything else around you blurs into the background?

That's precisely what happened to me this morning.

The normal Monday morning chaos wasn't too awfully chaotic, and as soon as we backed out of the driveway, I put my iPod on shuffle.

As this melody filled the car, tears slowly escaped from my eyes, and I couldn't help but sing along. And this wasn't the first time I had heard this song lately, but something about the timing of it hit me hard. Almost Easter. Springtime. Flowers blooming. Birds chirping. Windows open to let the fresh air in. A few of the little things that remind me of her.

I don't think I'm wrong in saying I had the best grandma in the world.

She took us on mushroom hunts in the woods....and showed us the worth of a good Tarzan vine.

Rode snowmobiles with us in the winter....as long as there was at least 6 good inches of snow.

Stuck her toes in the swimming pool.....as she sat and snapped green beans.

Made popcorn for supper on a Sunday night....and followed it with a large bowl of chocolate ice cream and her own homemade signature peanut butter and syrup topping.

Moonlighted as a bail bonds man (woman, actually), using those opportunities to share God's love with those needy souls she came into contact with. And it wasn't unusual for her to call my sisters and I on her way to the jail and ask if we wanted to go along.

Had a positive attitude about everything, all the time. Always. And along with that went wise bits of advice that was never harsh, but always honest.

Man, was that lady courageous. One time, walking through the Midway at the county fair, some teenage boys got into a fistfight right in front of us. Grandma's response? She started hitting them with her purse until they stopped. It worked.

There was always something delectable concoction being formed in her kitchen. Whether it was freshly-baked bread, apple dumplings, fried potatoes, her infamous grilled chicken, or just a simple supper cooked for Grandpa at 9:00 at night, she had the ability to whip up the tastiest treat at a moment's notice.

Oh, the memories.

Why do they feel like they were a lifetime ago?

My Grandma Drudge died four months before Kennedy was born. It was like I had to trade one for the other. She never got to meet her first great-grandchild in person, but only through the grainy black and white video we took of an ultrasound and showed her that Christmas before she died.

March 9th, 2002. It was that night that I knew. After helping to clean up the church from my sister Krystal's wedding, we all changed into comfy clothes and headed to Grandma and Grandpa's house. Uncle Mike, Uncle Mark, and friend Jim Cripe played their banjos and guitars and sang some favorite bluegrass and gospel songs....except the air wasn't as happy and carefree as when they usually got together to pick. That night, it was all for her. Because I think they, too, knew. Mary Alice Drudge had faced her breast cancer head on, and, in my opinion, had won.

She stayed productive, positive, and even though she lost most of her hair, she continued to be the woman that I wanted to be. Praising God in the storm. The next day, when Aaron and I were leaving to return home, I knew deep down that it would be my last time on Earth to see her. She sat, somber, almost a hollow copy of herself, in her recliner, covered in a green chenille blanket. I leaned over, kissed her cheek, and for one last time whispered, "I love you," into her ear. What I wanted to do was to curl up on her lap and not let go.

I don't think it was any coincidence that there was an email waiting for me in my inbox at work this morning when I got to school. From my mom. Had a piece of advice from my Grandpa that he wanted her to pass on to all of us. "Don't get old," was all it said. I don't plan on it. Grandpa hasn't yet, in my opinion. Grandma didn't let herself, either. I want to be just like them.