Mildred Box Murray

No one prepares you for losing a grandmother, and even when you know it’s coming, you can never truly be ready for it. We lost my grandma yesterday and while my heart is crushed, I am grateful she is no longer in pain. My heart is and will forever be full of memories walking around her enormous garden, counting all the different colors of day-lilies and azaleas. Picking grapes from a vine in her backyard. Counting buttons and learning to quilt, by hand and with her sewing machine. Playing games with this special wicker basket, a slot machine my grandpa had, and anything I could get my hands on to organize even as a kid. Smelling flowers and picking the prettiest ones for the dining room table. Hot syrup over pancakes for breakfast, only served from a small ceramic jug that sat on top of the oven for 50 years. Running outside just before dusk to watch the evening primrose bloom as the sun sets, and dragging every visitor outside to do the same. Stories about school in the 40s with Aunt Margaret, how life was so different back then and she never learned square root. Grandma, you lived almost 95 years and it still wasn’t long enough. Life will never be the same without you. I promise to have a garden one day that is hopefully one-tenth as beautiful as yours.