Things I Remember

Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches by the pool. On potato rolls. They had to be potato rolls.

This is one of my fondest summer memories as a child. Going to the pool first thing in the morning, splashing and playing until lunch, having our sandwiches poolside, and then right back at it again in the pool (after 10 minutes, of course) until it was time to go in. Playing in the pool with you all day made those sandwiches taste different. Better.

I remember you making honey garlic chicken, macaroni and cheese (you made us promise to never tell anyone your secret ingredient and to this day I promise I won't), and green beans for dinner at your house. It's still one of my favorite meals, but I can never make it like you could. I always try, but it's never the same.

I remember watching "The Wizard of Oz" with you. And the first time I ever saw "Dirty Dancing," it was with you.

You always let us watch movies that my parents might not have. You were so fun.

Every year, you bought me a present on my sister's birthday and vice versa. I would never tell anyone, but the present I got on Megan's birthday was always the one I looked forward to, even over my own birthday presents and Christmas.

Speaking of Christmas, you loved that too. The Little Drummer Boy and Little Lord Fauntleroy. Neil Diamond's Christmas album on repeat. You would stay over our house on Christmas Eve, and I loved waking up on Christmas Day with you there. You taught me how to wrap gifts like a pro.

You let me drive your truck while I had my permit and I'll never forget how nervous I made you, even though you tried to play it off like you were totally cool with it.

I remember debating with you on whether or not Lady Gaga was completely crazy or not. You loved her, and I thought she was insane.

Late-night UNO marathons were common. Complete with drinks and cheese and crackers. Me and Megan are pretty good at that game, thanks to you.

I remember your laugh. I remember your personality. You loved to socialize and loved a party.

This is what I'll always remember.

I won't picture you as you were these last six months, because it was not you. You knew this, too, and that's why you knew you had to leave us yesterday.

I promise to leave a perfect picture of you in my memory for the rest of my life. My spirited, vivacious, sassy Mom-Mom, who always had a good story and loved a good laugh.

We'll miss you, but we know in our hearts that you are healed and whole again. We know we'll see you again one day, but I hope you're having one heckuva party up there in Heaven. I'm sure the angels are happy to have you. Anyone would be.

I love you, Mom-Mom. Rest easy.


(Friends, I am taking a break from the crazy crafting and DIY today. Be back tomorrow.)