In Memory of Emmer, August 28, 1915 – January 15, 2013

She was my Grandmother, my confidant, my best friend.
She was our matriarch, the queen of our castle, the caller of the shots.
She was my link to our past, my purpose in our present and my hope for our future.
She was a quiet strength and calm in any storm.
She loved a long dinner with her special friends.
She loved to play bridge, and she really loved winning the pot.
She loved fine classical music.
She loved to read good books.
She loved to learn.
She read the newspaper cover to cover everyday.
She never took for granted her right to vote and she never missed voting in an election, local or national.
She loved a good manicure with clear nail polish, because one should never call too much attention to themselves.
She loved a glass of wine in the afternoon.
She loved cheese biscuits.
She loved Hershey’s chocolate nuggets.
She loved coffee ice cream with caramel sauce on top.
She loved homegrown tomato sandwiches with mayo on thin white bread.
She loved salmon colored geraniums on her porch in the summer.
She loved to laugh until she cried.
She told you what she thought, yes indeed, she always told you what she thought.
Sometimes she didn’t tell you, she just groaned her opinion, and that was all it took.
She believed a lady should always be prepared to host guests.
She believed in the value of the past and the power of the future.
She believed tomorrow would always be better than today.
She taught by example.
She taught me the importance of a proper handshake.
She taught my boys how to properly make up a bed with hospital corners.
She taught my boys to pull out a chair and assist women as they are seated.
She taught them the manners of waiting to sit until all the women were seated.
She taught them never to eat until she had raised her fork at the dinner table.
She taught me to look past the outside and peer into the more valuable inside.
She taught me to speak less and listen more.
Her selflessness was limitless.
Her determination was unstoppable.
Her strength was constant.
Her grace and kindness had power that she never understood.
She said she was just herself, yet everyone else saw so much more.
Her eyes and her emotions told stories words could not tell.
She loved her family with every ounce of herself and then some.
My life, and the lives of all who knew her are forever better having known her.
She was exceptional, though she didn’t think so.
She was just herself, nothing more and nothing less.
Plain and simple and absolutely exceptional.
Our love extends beyond the grave.
We miss her every single day.
Our eyes still fill with tears when we talk about her, but the tears flow more from laughter rather than pain.
She is with her groom, her mama (whom she brought into her own home and cared for almost until her passing) a brother who died too early for her to know and her Lord.
She would not come back if she could.
She’s home.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, January 2014

20140115-075255.jpg

Advertisement

Anniversaries

Anniversaries… dates that we recall for some special reason. Typically I think we relate anniversaries to celebrations. Often they are attached to sad or traumatic events. Whether the occasion marks happiness or sadness I think it’s worthy of recognition.

As this week passed, the 5 month anniversary of my Grandmother’s death passed. As I look forward to the weekend our family will remember the 75th anniversary of my Grandparent’s wedding. For the last 17 years this date has passed and she could only look back to the years they spent together. This year, at long last, I find comfort and peace that on their Diamond Anniversary my dear Emmer and Weed are reunited. He has been gone for many years now, but she still talked of how she would awaken in the night and try to be quiet so she wouldn’t disturb Weed’s sleep. Then she would realize he wasn’t there. Night after night, month after month, for 17 long years, she never got used to living without her groom. This year, this special year, on their Diamond Anniversary, we can all celebrate that young love has been rediscovered.

After 5 months I still miss Emmer. I still think about her at 9:15 every morning and often reach for the phone to call and wake her up. Sometimes I replay saved voicemails so I can just hear her strong voice. I wonder who has taken her weekly Wednesday 10:30 hair appointment. In the same way that her daily routine revolved around what she was doing with me, my daily routine revolved around what I was doing with her.

Adjustments and a gracious learning curve…that is the gift I have given myself over the last 5 months. Emmer used to have a saying when anyone hit a bump in the road. “It’s not an arm or a leg so we move on” and she would sort of shrug her shoulders. I’ve repeated that to myself many times. I’ve wondered what she might say to me if she could speak to me now. You know, I think she would say the same exact thing. I haven’t lost an arm and I haven’t lost a leg (though sometimes it may have felt like it) so I must remain grateful in ALL things, for all that I DO have. I must remain grateful for the years and life that I had with Emmer. I must glean from those years all that I can and then press on. In her 97 years she said goodbye to a LOT of treasured and dear friends. I watched her weep in loss and heartache and then laugh and reminisce.

Memories have carried me through darker days and her unique sense of humor has carried me into brighter days. What’s next? It’s always the million dollar question no matter where you are in life. My life has already defied many odds. My Grandmother lived past 97, my Mother is a leukemia survivor and I live with epilepsy everyday. “It’s not an arm or a leg” and I can’t imagine that God has washed His hands of me yet.

Heartache is heartache, no matter the cause. In hindsight, I can share of so many things I learned through epilepsy and my brain injury. Everyone in my family experienced heartache during those first few years. I know that was part of God’s plan for gaining insight I would need later in my life as I became Emmer’s constant companion. When my injuries forced me to walk away from my career, I couldn’t imagine what God what do with me. I was heartbroken. He mended my broken heart and made me stronger. He has taught me great lessons in this heartache. He has been mending my brokenness and He will beckon me to His next purpose for my life.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.”
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, NIV)

So as we pass through a week marked with noteworthy anniversaries, I choose to focus on the celebration of reunions, the valuable lessons of heartache and the seasons of life God sees us through.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, June 2013

She Was Exceptional

I know loss gets easier with time. I also know that I have to go through the painful emotions, both happy and sad, to get to the easier side. She has left an emptiness that will take time to fill. Her petite stature held together a much larger figure that embraced and experienced life in ways we will never fully comprehend.

She was my grandmother, my confidant, my best friend.
She was our matriarch, the queen of our show, the caller of the shots.
She was my link to our past, my purpose in our present and my hope for our future.
She was a quiet strength and calm in any storm.
She loved a long dinner with her special friends.
She loved to play bridge, and she really loved winning the pot.
She loved fine classical music.
She loved to read good books.
She loved to learn.
She loved Hershey’s chocolate nuggets.
She loved a good manicure with clear nail polish.
She loved a glass of wine in the afternoon.
She loved cheese biscuits.
She loved salmon colored geraniums on her porch in the summer.
She loved homegrown tomato sandwiches with mayo on thin white bread.
She loved to laugh until she cried.
She told you what she thought, yes indeed, she always told you what she thought.
She believed a lady should always be prepared to host guests.
She believed in the value of the past and the power of the future.
She taught me the importance of a proper handshake.
She taught my boys how to properly make up a bed with hospital corners.
She taught my boys to pull out a chair and assist women as they are seated.
She taught them the manners of waiting to sit until all the women were seated.
She taught them never to eat until she had raised her fork at the dinner table.
She taught me to look past the outside and peer into the more valuable inside.
She taught me to speak less and listen more.
She taught by example.
Her selflessness was limitless.
Her determination was unstoppable.
Her strength was constant.
Her eyes and her emotions told stories words could not tell.
She loved her family with every ounce of herself and then some.
My life, and the lives of all who knew her are forever better having received her love.
She was exceptional, though she didn’t think so.
She was just herself, nothing more and nothing less.
Plain and simple and absolutely exceptional.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, March 2013

A Routine Without a Route

I do so like to have a routine. Even if our schedule is busy, there is some order and some routine amid the chaos. But now, there is no routine. There is no route to follow.

For so long my days were defined by halves. The afternoon and evenings were reserved for my children and my husband. My mornings became an easy blend of my own workout schedule, chores, grocery shopping, etc and whatever my grandmother needed that day. My shopping included her shopping. My laundry included her laundry. My drive to the gym included her daily wake up call. Then there were the days that I spent with her. Days I didn’t need to plan my lunch because I would she would want me to stay and split her lunch with me. Days when I knew she was over due for a haircut and I would bust out the curling iron and try desperately to make her hair curl just right over her ears. Days she was full of herself and amused by herself. Days when I filed and painted her fingernails, always in clear though, never wanting to draw attention to herself. Days when I knew I was going to end up sitting on the floor and clipping her toenails. Oh how she loved to ask me to clip her toenails and then would giggle when I put on my glasses to protect my eyes from the clippings. Days when I somehow knew her chocolate stash would be running low and I better stop and grab a bag just in case. Days when I knew her wine stash was nearing empty and I darn sure better make sure there was always an extra bottle on hand, just in case she had a guest you know. Days that her plants were watered. Days when we laughed until we cried and days when we cried because we didn’t know what else to do. That was my routine as a granddaughter. My daily route always led to her.

Now, my routine as a granddaughter has ended. Where does one travel from here? She found her destination that she wanted for so long. She knew the route she would follow from here to there and forever more. We discussed so much, but we neglected to discuss the route I would travel when our paths would split. A routine without a route is chaos. I just need to figure out how to make sense of the chaos and map my own new route, and maybe, just maybe, it will become routine.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, February 2013

Emmer's 95th Birthday Bash

Emmer’s 95th Birthday Bash

The Circle is Complete

A reminder that the circle is now complete and I can look back without regret on the tough decision I made.

Embracing Change

After my accident and Epilepsy diagnosis I tried to continue working. I put every ounce of energy I had into my job. I worked in a church and I had been there 12 years. I had seen tremendous growth over those years. It was a place and a community of people that had captured a huge part of my heart and my life.  My job was people driven. My ministry was about helping people feel welcome and comfortable. It was my responsibility to guide them into the church and help them find their niche. Ironic, given that I was working so hard to make people feel comfortable, yet I felt so incredibly uncomfortable. Post injury, I was different and I knew it. My brain functioned differently. Before the injury I could look at point A, envision point Z and immediately get to work on the plan to get there, no…

View original post 1,497 more words