I got the word Saturday night that Grandmom had passed away. On Mother’s Day, my Dad had to begin the affairs to lay his mother to rest.
I don’t know what to write, what does words say to fill a hole? I had talked to her on the phone a few days before. She had asked me if I was still coming down to Arkansas for a visit. I told her that I was, that I was bringing Eliza with me. I’ve told Eliza about my grandmother, that she was as unique a person as you could find. A woman who could out shoot all the men in the family, could outhunt us, and knew the workings of beast and plant like nobody else. She spent her time between her home, a deer camp, her earlier home, and the old family house, most of them surrounded by forest and riverbottom. She was happiest when she was outside. When some legislation came down and threatened to change things, she spoke her mind and it seemed as if she were the voice of the residents of the area. She had told my dad that politicians are like monkeys, the higher up in the tree they get, the more of their butt is showing. I have a picture of her with the skins of fifty coons hanging on a barn wall, for she was a trapper until her health prevented her from doing so. I remember as a kid, going to her house, and she would get on a three-wheeler and tell Boog (a mutt dog that would track squirrel) to get on, and off they’d go. I remember her laughs and her keen wit. She didn’t miss anything, her mind was as sharp as a tack.
The funeral was held today and I was unable to go. But I miss her still. I hope that healing comes to my Dad in his loss.