Two Weeks Off

I hope you read yesterday's post, and I hoped that you assumed, like me, that it was referring to George W. Bush and company. And I also hope, like me, you loved it. You need to heat the melody to fully appreciate it, so please check it out soon. The song made me laugh and brought tears to my eyes at the same time. It spoke the truth.
Anyway, the reason for my two weeks absence to the blog right when I got back in the swing of things is a sad one. My grandmother, Malissa Dailey, wasn't doing well and finally passed away on Saturday, September 9th. It was a long time coming, and expected. It was also a bit of a good thing, because she was suffering, and I know it was wearing hard on the family. I didn't write for two weeks because I felt that when something as important as that happens, it isn't right to just ignore it and write something else. Yet, I couldn't figure out what to write. So instead, for two weeks, I logged onto my blog several times, but couldn't finish an entry. I finally decided a simple paragraph would suffice, as she was a simple lady.

Malissa Dailey was in her mid-eighties when she died. Her funeral was well attended, like a young person's we said, but with a large family, that tends to happen. She was a farmer. Her husband, Wilbur Wetzel Dailey, died in 1980, so she was a widow for the last 26 years of her life, the entire time I've known her. She raised 5 boys, my dad the youngest, and worked harder than any woman I've ever known. When we were building our house in the mid-1980's, we lived with her for a couple of winters. After that, I remember spending the night with her. She taught me the few rudimentary sewing skills I know, and how to cut off a chicken's head. That chicken was tasty. She would drive me to Mt. Sterling for an ice-cream. She was soft spoken, and not very talkative, but when she talked, you listened. She loved her news, and she loved to garden. It was a sad day eight years ago when she moved in with my uncle and sold her house and land. We used to make apple cider with her, cherry pies, do canning, and she could always wip up the most delicious home meal. Hers is the house where I learned to love white bread and Pepsi, and tolerate sweet tea. She made the best noodles in the world. At her tallest, I don't know if she hit five feet, and her fatest, I doubt she hit 100 pounds, but I'd also bet that she wrestle you and win if she wanted to. I feel guilty for distancing myself from her over the past decade as her health declined. I didn't want to see her in that shape, and that was selfish. I remember her strong, healthy, virbant. I did visit her a few times, though. She had even started to read my book. I think the copy that I gave her will be a cherished posession of mine for years to come, still with her bookmark and newspaper clipping of my first signing in it. She surrounded herself with mementos of her family and their accomplishments. This wasn't excactly the short paragraph that I had envisoned, but how do you summarize a life with just a handful words? I could never make you feel like you knew her, just through this. Just know that she was loves, and she will be missed.

Qops!
Grandmas hold our tiny hands for just a little while.....but our hearts forever. ~Author Unknown

Grandma always made you feel she had been waiting to see just you all day and now the day was complete. ~Marcy DeMaree

t took me a long time to get used to the reality that my grandmother had passed away. Wherever I was, in the house, in the garden, out on the fields, her face always appeared so clearly to me. ~ Huynh Quang Nhuong