Her imprint upon me is deep, and I like it.

I’m sitting here in Utah trying to capture my thoughts as she takes her last breaths in her living room in Oklahoma.  I have an ache in my chest that won’t quite go away, and I can feel a constant threat of a flood just behind my eyes.  I met her for the first time 22 years ago and did not know then the impact she has had on my life and character.  Her imprint upon me is deep and I like it.

It was the summer that we got married, 1996.  Daran and I were on our way back from a wedding in Texas.  We had plans of stopping in Millerton, Oklahoma for me to meet his grandma, Lillie Lemon, for the first time.  Our little gray Nissan pickup was loaded almost to the ceiling of the camper shell with wedding presents.  On top of the massive pile was that huge white poofy thing we used to wear under our wedding dresses.  I had loaned it to the bride and was bringing it back home with all of their wedding presents.  They lived in the same town as us.

We were still in Texas happily driving along when we heard the siren and saw the lights.  We couldn’t quite figure out  what illegal action we were guilty of.  The highway patrolmen asked Daran to get out of the vehicle and took him behind the truck for a few minutes.  He then left Daran behind the truck and came to talk to me while I sat in the passenger seat.  He asked me, “Mam, can you tell me where you’re going?”  I replied, “to Oklahoma to see my husbands’ grandparents.”  “What are their names?” he queried.  “I don’t know.  I haven’t ever met them,” I answered.  “What’s their address?”  I actually didn’t even know what town we were going to.  Again, I answered, “I don’t know,” with a kind of squished-up guilty face.  Why do police officers have such an effect on people?  He finally let us go with a warning.  He told my very law-abiding husband that we changed lanes without signaling which is physically impossible for Daran because his finger does not know how to not press the turn signal when he is changing lanes.  As we pondered the situation, we finally came to the conclusion that he thought we had drugs hiding in the suspicious wedding presents and poofy skirt in the back.  Makes sense.  We were in Texas.  In hindsight, it would have been a very clever way to transport drugs.

The only word I can think of to properly give you a picture of Millerton is underwhelming, economically depressed and kind of quiet except for the barking of a multitude of dogs.  We turned down the dirt road that led to Papa and Granny’s house.  Before the car was turned off, we were greeted by a couple chihuahuas and Daran’s aunt sweet mentally handicapped Trisha.  Soon I saw his granny framed by the front door frame holding the screen door open.  “Ya’ll come in now.”  I was a bit intimidated because Daran had explained that I was quite citified for Millerton.  Her frame was stocky and ample and she plodded rather than walked. You could tell that she had worked hard all her life.  She wore a long moo moo type dress.  As soon as I got to the front porch she embraced me in what I can only describe as a proper bear hug and kissed me on the cheek.   As this confident woman squished me to herself, I knew immediately I would like her.  

In a moment’s notice, she had a spread of food on the linoleum table for us.  I’m not sure how long we stayed and chatted.  I don’t know what we talked about.  She had a shelf in the kitchen filled with beautiful violets.  I politely told her how pretty they were.  My impression of her was this and still is this:  deep lover of God, strong beyond words, humble like no-one else I know, lover and carer of all, more patient than I could ever hope to be, and steady as a rock. She made a room alive and peaceful just by being in it. When we left that day she handed me some violets and said something under her breath about me not knowing how to keep them alive.  I accepted the challenge and kept those babies alive until I finally realized that I really didn’t like violets. For some reason today, I think I like violets.  I think I am going to get some and put them in my windowsill.

I did get to say good-bye in October.  I sat beside her hospital bed that was stationed in the middle of the living room.  I asked her if she was in pain, “Always,” she replied with a smile.  Still strong and steady.  I bear hugged her because she didn’t have the strength to bear hug me.  I left with my vision blurry from tears in my eyes.  I knew it would be the last time.  

Last night, Avriel Lillie Lemon, my 3 year old was leaving my room for the night.  As she closed the door, she said, “I don’t wan' Granny die.” I replied, "I don’t either."  She never got to meet her, but hopefully she will be imprinted with the golden qualities of her namesake.  I will have to tell her stories of her Great Granny when she asks about the violets on my windowsill.