She was never the doting, affectionate type. She didn't bake us cookies or knit us blankets. But when we were little, she made the best scrambled eggs. We used to run in the field around her house and suck on the honeysuckles that grew up the trellis next to her house. She had a large cat named John Kitty, and later one named Molly. She got remarried the summer before my eighth grade year and for the first time I got to know a grandfather. She was a godly woman that loved the Lord, and I know she loved us too.
I wish she had lived longer. I wish she had seen me get married. I wish she could have blessed my children. But my timing isn't God's timing and she was ready to go.
I see her sometimes, in the face of my oldest. It's the way C purses her lips when she is in deep concentration. It's a flicker, so brief I almost miss it. But it's there. I see her in Baby E as well, in the way his lips form when he is eating. I'm sure she is in my face too.
And though this side of heaven we won't meet again, it is comforting to know her smile will live on for generations to come.
