funerals | Who I am

I was able to pick these photos yesterday from my Facebook. This little cutie is my granddaughter, Hanna.

She reminds me so much of myself when I was young. She looks just like I did. It is like looking at myself from about this age of four.

I don’t know what I looked like younger than this. I had one baby picture that my step-mom gave to me. I was somewhere of the age of four months old. I have since given it to my daughter for her to have.

I don’t do this crazy thing for my boys, because it doesn’t seem like they really would get much out of it at this point in their lives. Boys are different from girls, but with my daughter, each year at Christmas I give her a personal gift, of something of myself, and this one year I had given her my baby picture. I like to give gifts to my children so they can enjoy them now, instead of after I am buried. I don’t know why people wait until after they have left this earth to give away their possessions. I want to be alive and watch their enjoyment of things that matter to me.

I used to play make-believe games when I was younger. I knew from what people told me that I had long blonde hair that was so long I could sit on it. When my step-mom and my dad married, my mom cut it all off. I was told that she hated long hair.

One time I was in the basement with my father and I was rummaging through some old boxes, and I pulled out some hair, yes, real hair. It was two braids. I asked dad whose they were, and he said my moms, and that she had always hated those braids, so now I understood a little better why she cut my hair off, but I dreamed of what I looked like. No extra weight on me, fair skin, a cutie-pie, with dimples and long beautiful hair. In other words, I saw myself as a princess.

The first photo I ever saw myself in was when I was the same age as Hanna. I was standing beside my grandpa and I had that blonde hair, short and curly, with a big smile.

Now yesterday, I see Hanna. She got the chance to go to a big water park, and from the looks of it, she had a wonderful time.

I can remember back when I was in elementary school, mom and dad always worked the day shifts, but in the summer, after suppers were over, they would take us to the big lake here in town and we would all go swimming. I don’t remember anything special that I can tell you about those times, but I do remember my mother always sitting on a chair on the beach. She never swam, although she would get her feet wet. I think she used this time to relax and read, while dad and I played in the water. Al was terrified of water, so he played with his little sand bucket and shovel in the sand. There were no big water parks that I remember but the lake was the biggest water park to me.

I wish I could go back and relive these times but the change would be mom and dad would still be here. I want to see my dad’s smile again and hear his laughter.

With seeing these photos of Hanna, I can see through her my own childhood, and that helps me to travel back in time to some wonderful times spent with my parents.

I love you Daddy. It has been four and a half years since you left me to go to heaven. Even writing this, makes my heart, feel a heaviness as I wish you were still here for me.

Happy Father’s Day. I hope you are waiting for me.

This home stands abandoned now. Left with rooms filled with whispers of laughter and love from its prior guests. I walked in the front door and sat down in one of the wooden rockers. It squeaked against the old wooden floors. I could remember coming here when I was a child. Hearing the stories of how children had been born and raised here. There were summer reunions held here. All family members made a special trip to this house and they had a feast of many great foods. The children would swim, and fish, and would venture into nature and look for bugs and insects. I could remember finding a rare bug, and taking it to show grandpa. He said it was the most beautiful bug he had ever seen. He took one of his old boxes and went to his wife’s sewing box and pulled out a straight pin, and he pinned the bug for me. I kept this in my special place in my bedroom among the other memories I had collected through the years. There had been weddings here, and funeral dinners held here. It was a home-built with love by my great grandma and grandpa. I stopped rocking and sat very still. I could hear giggles coming from the kitchen, where children had helped bake home-made cookies. I scooted my rocker around so it was facing the big living room. The furniture was still in its place, but covered with sheets. I could picture grandpa standing over grandma with a twig of mistletoe at Christmas, and I remember giggling as I stole a peek of them kissing. Lots of memories here. A home filled with love, now standing empty. I placed the rocker back in its original place and placed the sheet over it, to protect the memories and never let them escape. I walked out of the house and shut the door softly, singing to myself.

This story was written by me for a post of Picture It And Write It

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2012/05/27/__picture-it-write-28/