Mary Elizabeth 12/24/1922 - 8/1/2000
My Gramma was a character.
She helped me learn how to sew, and loved to brag that she taught me zippers.
When I first started learning to play the piano, she played Claire De Lune for me,
and told me that someday IF I practiced, I'd be able to play it too.
In the last 3 or 4 years, Gramma and I really began to "connect."
It was as if our love of sewing and music were a bridge for us.
She called to check up on me while I was laid up pregnant with Kat,
and always wanted to know the "family gossip."
The "new" Gramma that I learned to love will be deeply missed forever.
Come let me tell you about a rose.
A rose that I have known.
In the middle of the winter,
There bloomed a rose.
As she opened and blossomed,
Everyone could see that she was a rose of beauty.
This was a hardy rose.
That needed sunshine,
And fresh air to thrive.
This rose also had fragrance,
To make people turn to notice her.
As the sun shone down on her,
She turned and moved,
To always be seen in the best light.
This rose also had thorns,
To keep others from trampling her.
This rose had several offspring,
Who in turn have created their own offspring,
And even now, a third generation is beginning,
Ensuring that this rose will never truly die.
But as the years went by,
This rose began to fade.
The petals began to wither and fall out,
And the stem could no longer support her.
Until one day,
The GARDENER, walking through his tended land,
Took notice of her and said,
"Come here my fading rose,
Let me take you to my table,
Where I will renew your beauty,
And put you into a new arrangement.
So that I may enjoy your presence myself."
And HE picked her.
And took her away to HIS home.
But while this rose is no longer with us,
The beauty of her is still here,
Inside our hearts and memory.
And as her offspring grow,
There will be traces of this rose,
Forever.
Copywrite - Homeschoolmama
8/3/2000
