Strawberry Pies and other memories

I made a strawberry pie the other day - it's a great sign of Spring. And it always reminds me of my Grandpa Rowland. He used to make them in batches of 5, or some huge number like that. Then he would send them home with us - and Mom would let us eat pie for breakfast :) So I ate pie for breakfast! And I made myself a cup of tea and sweetened it with Splenda. And I thought about how my Grandpa would have liked Spelnda. He was diabetic and would make part of his batch of pie with Equal - but I think Splenda is better and I think he would have liked it :) The pies reminding me of him made me think of the things that remind me of my other grandparents.

Sometimes when I look at my hands I think my pinkies look like my Grandmommy Bishop's pinkies. And when I'm having nose issues because I can't seem to get it clean enough, or to stop whistling when I try to go to sleep I remember when my Grandmommy was in the hospital and my Mom was taking care of her and she would talk about helping her make sure she felt that her nose was clean. She was very particular about it and it bothered her but the nurses didn't have time to help her, so Mom made sure Grandmommy felt like her nose was clean. Yes, I know that a snotty nose and a pinkie are weird things to remind me of my Grandmother - but we don't get to pick these things.

There are all of these sweet, little, old ladies that come into the bank. They look so delicate and speak so softly - they remind me of my Grandma Rowland. She was so nice to everyone. In her living room hung her paddle - it had a pillow on the "busineess end" :) Her cabinets were always full of Little Debbie's. I liked that, even though I didn't always like the kinds she picked :)

Finally, my Grandaddy Bishop. I don't really remember anything about him. But I do remember his funeral. It's really not as sad as it sounds. The Methodist church was packed! I remember being impressed that so many people knew and loved my Grandaddy - I still am. Really the only part of the funeral that I remember was when the minister told the congregation that Jack didn't want us to be mourning but that this was a celebration because he was in heaven. Every other funeral I have been to has been compared to that first one. I have never dreaded funerals or been scared because even in his death my Grandaddy taught me that as God's children, death isn't something to fear but a celebration of a home going.

I look forward to being reunited with all of my grandparents and am so thankful for the memories I have and the legacy they left.