my grandma oldroyd
high school.
college.
she taught me that friendship can span decades.
she was one of my best friends.
over 60 years there are between us.
60 years of experience she unselfishly leant me.
borrowed via life tutoring and acceptance.
crocheting
knitting
cross-stitching
quilting
clothes patching
rug braiding
bread making
bottling
these are all skills she helped me acquire.
beyond physical talents she also helped me develop a strong sense of self and an innate respect for others.
she helped me see humors place and strength.
her self created environment was a type of fantasy land for me.
a place to learn lost tricks and lose oneself finding new tricks.
inside her house is an array of trinkets and mysteries from far off places or things representing far off ways.
the exterior was my childhood playground-
a massive garden,
small orchard,
lilac hedge,
farm (with the building, "swimming pool", chicken coup, and granary),
canal,
swing,
and cellar-
it was one of the main places where my imagination developed.
she lived a mile away from me-
the perfect running distance.
running to her house became my way of escaping life.
my grandfather passed away when i was 11-
i remember a lot about him, but the majority of my time spent in my grandparents home was when my grandmother was a widow.
she tutored my life at a couple of the most significant life changing times for me.
during high school her home was my haven.
when i went away to college she became my pen pal.
when i moved home during the summers she became my after work retreat.
my love of gummy bears was acquired from her
i'll never look at
black licorice
a typewriter
a mail box
a tree swing
a tiny loaf of bread
crocheted scrubbies
rook cards
a musical organ
cardinals
chickens
vases
braided rugs
chiming clocks
pickled asparagus
a back scratcher
or cookies
along with many other things
without seeing her
i'll never watch
gone with the wind
old time musicals
the johnny carson show
jeopardy
wheel of fortune
the price is right
or
the buttercream gang
without thinking of her
she's ingrained herself so nicely in the framework of my life that there's no way to work her out.
we were equals, she and i,
well,
she actually made me feel superior in every way,
but she always treated me with respect and the type of dignity you rend a long time friend.
"do i have anything you want?"
"you little stink"
"i love you bushels and bushels"
"you've made my whole week."
"you're a ray of sunshine in my life."
her ability to love and her strength of listening made her my place to turn.
it seemed to me that a jar of her pickled asparagus and a bowl of pea, potato, and carrot soup were life's cure-all.
there isn't much that escapes conversation when you're co-hand quilting a quilt or braiding a rug together the size of a small car.
besides conversation of this sort
we were pen pals.
years we wrote-
years she silently tutored me the only way you can a teen or co-ed.
i owe a large part of my choices for good to her.
she encouraged me to be me
she helped me feel comfortable with me.
it's safe to say she taught me the love of words.
from her poetry reciting
to her constant book reading
to her writing
and her beautiful way of speaking
she showed me the many lovely facets of words.
my grandmother could spin advice into the simplest of phrases
she could put it in a rhyme or riddle which made it timeless and pass-down-able.
wise and seasoned in the art of lovely living is what she was.
she lived life revolved around the gospel
talks on tape
talks on the radio
talks written down
talks by scripture
prophetic teaching was her main form of entertainment.
she loved the gospel perhaps more than anyone else i've ever known or will know.
3 missions she served-
her whole life was a mission.
elect.
kind.
generous.
thoughtful.
unselfish.
complimenting.
she made me feel loved so very much.
she made me feel like i was worth being proud over.
she made even my smallest accomplishments seem like grand life milestones.
i'll try my whole life to work and deserve how she made me feel about myself.
she had one of the loveliest personalities of anyone i've known.
she had spunk
and determination
and wit
and she was strong-willed
and strong-headed
honestly she could spin a solid guilt trip with the best of them.
it was endearing the way she guilted because she did it out of love and a desire for my company.
i'm going to terribly miss feeling that kind of guilt.
she'd have a list of things she wanted me to do;
i like to think she did it to keep me around
it made me feel important
and needed
and accomplished in a unique way
she was reason enough to come around,
perhaps i didn't let her know like i should have.
she struggled for a long time before she passed.
about 5 1/2 years ago she suffered a stroke and underwent major neurological surgery to spare her life.
since then her quality of living wasn't,
well,
quality as measured by most.
i've often wondered why she had to struggle like she did,
and i've come to terms with a possible answer.
progression is wrought from struggle.
great people won't progress through minor trials because they've already surpassed that level of competency.
my grandmother was one great woman that could have possibly only have progressed via something outrageously trying.
it may be selfish of me but i can see the gradual decline of my grandmother as a tender mercy to me.
had i lost her all at once it would have been unbearable.
crushing.
devastating.
to lose the dynamic her a little at a time over years was the only way i could manage going without her.
perhaps that's terrible of me, it is, but it's the truth.
i see her all around me.
i feel her life tutoring instilled in me a bit of her.
i see her in my favorite people.
she gave me one of my most treasured gifts, my mother.
ever second of my life has been impacted by her because she gave me my good mom.
God was especially good to me when he allowed me to be Shirley Taylor Oldroyd's granddaughter.
i've seen God numerous times because of her and on account of her being my grandmother.
i'm grateful to him every day for my good grandparents.
i'll miss her.
i miss her.
she lived in such a way that it's as if she's still living.
she's that kind gesture to an ailing neighbor.
she's that homemade soup to the ill.
she's those crocheted booties on that newborns feet.
she's kneaded into the dough of rising bread for a friend.
she's the tootsie pop middle of a rice ball halloween treat.
she's the beautiful rug underfoot.
she's those lovely inked letters on a thinking of you note.
she's that small trusted secret kept forever.
she's in the cadence of a well versed poem.
she's a stitch in the warmth of a quilt.
she's a good hand in a game of family rook.
she's a beautiful bottle of unselfishly jarred goods.
she's that well-refined, olden-time, beautifully pressed dress.
she's darned in the love patched sock and worn knee.
she's the overcoming to a trial.
she's the long suffering of love and true friendship.
she's all the beautiful things that make life really living.
she's so many things to so many and yet she's somehow those things to only me.
grandma- i hope to be like you.
you're missed
and loved
and admired
my life will always have an empty place that only you could fill.
until we meet again.
i'm grateful to God everyday for all the days you were here.
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