On life and death

I attended the funeral for my Aunt Edith yesterday. Her grandson wrote a moving tribute to her that I'd like to share here.

The collection of porcelain teapots on the windowsill rattle their lids as the tractor rumbles by on the gravel driveway outside. My uncle waves to my grandmother who sits inside sipping her freshly brewed first cup of early morning coffee. By the time he returns in the afternoon, the counter tops will be dusted with crumbs of bread and cookies that have been used to prepare a delicious spread for my uncle to devour. My grandmother will have swept the tracks of hay and mud my cousin has brought in on his hunting boots. The morning paper will be spread out over the kitchen table like a thin black and white table cloth. Cups and saucers hold the paper in place. A light breeze sucks the curtains in, then blows them out as if the house itself is breathing. The weather section of the paper flips up and I can see its forecast is true -- sunny with a slight breeze today.

I will never forget the loving home my grandmother created for her children and grandchildren in which we created memories as simple and pure as the one above -- homemade strawberry jam, afternoon adventures in the attic, curling up on the couch in the cozy room with the wood burning stove, a warm hug as she stepped off the plane at the Macon airport, a permanent place in my heart, soul, and mind. I love you Grandma!
~ Michael Rawls