My New Project (Memaw)

One day, after my daughter was born, I was thinking about all the people in her life and all the people I grew up knowing who she would never know. Those who had passed away before she was born and those who were getting older and might pass away before she could establish memories of them. The thought made me sad, but I decided to do something about it rather than let it consume me and get me down. I've heard so many stories about great grandparents, other family members, neighbors and friends of my family over the years. However, as I look around now, many of those who told me those stories have gone to meet Jesus. There is no one left to tell those stories. So, for my children, I have decided to write about some people who were/are special to me that they will never get to know as a way of introducing them. I may even expand it to people they do know, but tell some stories from when I was growing up. I plan to put it in a book of some sort for them to have if they'd like to read it when they are older. Posting it here will be a way for me to keep up with it, and share some special memories with others. I also encourage anyone who knew these people to share sweet, funny, special memories with me to include as well. Some of these may be hard for me to write, and there are definitely some big emotions attached. Please, pray for me as I attempt to share these very personal memories.

I'm going to begin with my maternal grandmother, Mary Neal Thurmond Gardner (aka Memaw/Grandma). When I was little, my brother and I called her Memaw. Somewhere along the way, towards the end of her life, I began calling her Grandma because that's what my older cousins called her. I was 11 when she died at the age of 74.

Learning to quilt with Memaw

Memaw was a very special lady. I may have only known her for 11 years, but I still think of her so often. She was a sweet soul, with a huge heart who loved to laugh. When she laughed, it shook her whole body and it became contagious. It reminds me of Wild Man's easy laugh that just gets all over him and spills out to those around him. Everyone who knew my grandmother, loved her. This is the lady who taught me how to fish and would even bait my hook when Mom told me I needed to learn how to do it myself. She passed her love for fishing down to me and many other family members, and we have passed it on to Sassy Pants. I remember she would often wear a long sleeve, button up shirt and knit pants that didn't match along with a straw hat to work outside or go fishing. She didn't dress to impress on daily basis. She was pretty no nonsense about things and never wore much makeup. Her skin was wrinkled and tan from being outside and her face always looked joyful to me with a twinkle in her eyes. Her hair had a natural wave in the front that was passed on to my mom and then down to me.

I remember when she would talk on the phone, Memaw would take her pinkie and lay it on her top lip under her nose and just keep it there. It looked like some funny little mustache. Then, she would say things like, "Awe, the mischief!" It meant, "No, way!" or "You don't say?!" or something similar.

She always called my Pepaw "Daddy." He called her "Mary" but said it like, MAE-ree. They used to volunteer at a local thrift shop and food bank. In the summers, they would take vegetables to the Food Fair (farmer's market) in town. They would also can and freeze produce at home. I can't tell you how many green beans I broke and peas I shelled at their house.

Most of the time they had a big jig-saw puzzle on a table in the living room they were working. We spent many hours putting puzzles together, talking, laughing and learning. This is the reason I have the ability to look at a puzzle piece and immediately fit it into the right spot so often. They would give us popcorn (popped in a pan on the stove) and slices of apples for snacks.

My Memaw made the best biscuits, even if we were the only ones who thought so. I remember rushing into her house and checking the biscuit bowl to see if there were any left from breakfast. We knew when our cousins had been to visit before us because the biscuits would be gone! If I close my eyes, I can see her in the kitchen around that small round table making them. She was so fast. She could have made them in her sleep. However, no matter how many times I try, I cannot make them like she did. I can see it in my head, but they never turn out like hers. Several of us have tried to replicated them, but can't. Other things we loved for her to make were blackberry cobbler, 14 day pickles, sourdough bread, coconut pie, and chocolate pie. I don't know if they'd win awards at the county fair, but we all loved them. Shortly before she passed, one of my cousins got married and the family gave her handwritten recipes. Memaw was very tired during those days, but Mom got her to write a few recipes down one day. She made copies of them so we could have them in her handwriting.

Me, Memaw and Mom

She loved birds (especially blue birds), flowers and being outside. We would go pick strawberries or blackberries when they were in season. She also enjoyed sewing and quilting. I have a baby blanket that she quilted and Mom embroidered for me as well as the quilt shown in the first picture of this post. One of my most priced possessions is the feather pillow she and Pepaw made and gave me one Christmas.

Memaw and Pepaw sat in the front of the church we all attended. She had a little stool to prop her feet on that she left under the pew in front of them. (That pew now had a memorial plaque with their names on it.)

My Memaw was one of the strongest woman I've known. She battled poly cystic kidney disease for many years. As her kidney function became drastically low in her 60's, she was faced with the decision of whether or not to go on dialysis. Mom told me recently that she decided to take the treatments because she wanted to watch us, her grand kids, grow up as long as she could. The first few years, her treatments were given at home. Pepaw, Mom and Uncle Allen would administer the dialysis three days a week while Aunt Linda baby sat Johnny and me when she could. The procedure took several hours. Mom would go up to their house, which was half a mile from ours, early in the morning. Aunt Linda would stay with us at our house and then take us to my granparents' house just before Memaw got of the machine around noon for dinner (lunch) time. Everyone has different memories from this period. Since I was young (3 when this began), I was sheltered from so much of the pain and stress. What I remember is Aunt Linda painting my fingernails and playing before we went for dinner at Memaw and Pepaw's. I'd walk in to Days of Our Lives on the tv, Mom and Uncle Allen prepping to take Memaw off the machine, and Pepaw fixing the food. They'd all smile and say, "Hey, there!" or something like that. Then, they'd see my freshly painted nails and kid me by asking if I'd shut my fingers in the door or something to make them turned pink. They would finish up, and we would eat. On these days, Memaw would be tired and weak. We couldn't go fishing or do much outside with her. We always had to be careful not to bump her arm where her graph for the dialysis was located. I know it had to be sore even though I never heard her complain. She never really complained about any of it. She just did it.

After a few years, doing the treatments at home was taking a toll on everyone. I think Memaw sensed that because she decided to start making the 1 hour trip to a clinic in Paris for them. A van would come pick her up and drop her back off. She made good friends at the clinic and always spoke highly of everyone. However, as anyone familiar with dialysis knows, it takes a big toll on the body. Memaw just couldn't be strong forever. God called her home on April 12th, 1994. Twenty-four years later, the events of that day are still fresh in my mind. Every anniversary since then has brought some pain. Now though, I choose to be happy for her because I know that is the day she saw the face of Jesus and her pain was gone.

I can still remember the way she smelled. After she passed, I asked if I could have her robe. It still smelled like her, and I would wrap myself in it when I needed to feel close to her. To this day, when someone plays "Victory in Jesus" I get emotional because it was played at her funeral. Half the time I can't sing any of it. The other half, I get to the 3rd verse and begin to cry.

"I heard about a mansion He has built for me in glory. And I heard about the streets of gold Beyond the crystal sea; About the angels singing, And the old redemption story, And some sweet day I'll sing up there The song of victory."

It gets me every time, but I am so thankful she is alive in Heaven today and I will see her again!