Beautiful words and Beautiful GP

It was on this day three years ago that I got the phone call that my grandmother had passed.  Let me rephrase this. It was on this day three years ago that one of the most influential people of my life, and one of the best friends I have ever had, passed.  That's better. Because when we think of "Grandma" we think of someone who knits sweaters and bakes chicken noodle soup, and whose house smells like mothballs. This is was not my grandmother.

Beautiful Grandma Prudy she was to me for 21 years. She didn't really cook a whole lot, but she was awesome at playing Polly Pockets. She didn't knit me anything, but she was great for a tacky gift here and there. She rode bikes with me, and we went on adventures, and she hosted parades, and tea parties, and she ALWAYS dressed up. Luckily, her house did not smell of mothballs, but it did smell like flowers. Every kind of flower imaginable. She had a garden that the entire street knew about. That was probably because it was visible from the end of the street. It was gorgeous, and it reflected her beauty and the beauty of so many quiet, unique, and simple things.  I could write a novel about her and everything about her. 

The day after her death, I went home to be with my family. My mother had gone to her house to pick up a few things and arrange them for the funeral. My grandmother had been hospitalized for some time, so the mail was piled up and the papers on the table had not been touched for awhile.  But as she went through them, my mother found a small clipping my grandmother had clipped from the newspaper before she went away.  On top of the clipping was a post-it-note that read, "to Sarah, love BGP".  It was for me. 

The quote that she had clipped was one of the most beautiful things I had ever read. I read it at her gravestone. Did she leave them behind knowing that I may read them at her graveside? It's debatable. Did she leave them to me so that I may live by them? Most definitely.  Did the quote match her life perfectly? Every. Last. Word. It encompassed so much of who she was and what she believed. 

As I read these words at her grave, I wept not for her loss, but because I was so blessed to have had her for the time I did.   I love you and I miss you. 

"To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded. "

- Ralph Waldo Emerson