Stockings hang by the fireplace, a halo of light shines in through the window. A hand knit, white blanket rests upon the back of a blue armchair, ready for the temperature to drop. Sleeping peacefully, an infant in blue rests in the arms of a gray haired woman. Gently cradling, she lovingly watches over his slumber.
The same blonde haired baby sits on the arm of a green chair. He has grown slightly and is in another blue outfit with the words “Easter” on his chest. The same gray haired woman smiles down at him. He watches, intently focused on her words as they share their secrets.
Now the little baby has grown in to a bigger, stronger boy while the woman has become frail and weak, her hair thinner. Family surrounds her on all sides, their relationship evident in their faces, in a sterile blue room. Blotchy cheeks, red rimmed eyes, and weariness touches each one except the woman herself. Although weak she is strong and determined, guiding them through their grief.
Tomorrow marks two years since my grandmother left us. I have spent most of the day sifting through pictures, reminiscing. I have been unable to focus much on my final project lately, even though I have great ideas I just can not get the words out right. As I have said before March is a month full of bad memories. Even though she passed in April I associate more strongly with the events that occurred in March. I have included two of the photos referenced. The third and final photo has never, and will never, be shared online by any of us. I am not ashamed of it, it is actually my most prized memory, but she would be angry with us as she doesn’t have her wig on.