I know - this post should all be about the luck o' the Irish and green beer and partying. After all, "Patrick" was my maiden name, and this is a holiday that is practically sacred for my family. Rest assured - the corned beef is in the crockpot, potatoes in the oven, and cabbage is on the stove. But my mind is somewhere else today.
It was on this day four years ago that we lost my Grandma Patrick. And today I'm missing her more than ever. For so many reasons.
Wasn't she a beauty? I don't honestly think she ever would have thought of herself that way, as a self-described tomboy who grew up on an Idaho potato farm. But the rest of us saw it. She was amazing. My grandpa was the wonderful public volunteer, the business man, the person they named an elementary school after - but he wouldn't have been any of those things without her. She was the behind-the-scenes support. The party thrower, the household manager, the encourager, the cheerleader. After all, she was the mom.
A mom of four boys- something I am only now beginning to understand. Mine are still so young, that I know I still don't have a clue in the ways they will make my heart race, make me gasp, make me worry. But she had lived to tell the tales. She had the wisdom of when to worry, and when to let it go. She knew the fastest way to the ER, and when a wound could be healed with neosporin and a band-aid. She could fill hungry tummies with the best of foods, and swim with the best of them. She was a true "Boys Mom". And I really wish she was here to help me understand just what that is going to mean for me.
In so many ways, I want to be like her. She was the one who taught me to love the Blazers. She was the one who could get dirty in the garden and bake a mean batch of chocolate chip cookies. She loved you just the right amount to make you feel cared about without being smothered. She carried on great conversations, and never cared if they were only with herself. She loved her children and her husband above all else, and supported them in every harebrained scheme and lofty aspiration. She gave of herself, without giving herself away. And she knew how to play.
So, today, I'm realizing just how lucky we were to have her.
1 comment:
those are WONDERFUL photographs. I only hope that SOME of the thousands I have been taking will end up being as timeless and as cherished as these.
She sounds like she was the neatest lady.
Post a Comment