memory: julia's grandmother

I'm feeling quiet this afternoon, after reading Julia's post. I'm missing my grandmother - think I might go through some of her things that are still around the house - and so I'll let Julia's beautiful post speak for itself.  It's pretty wonderful. Be back a little later with just one more post to wrap up this amazing week. Hugs to you all, S

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From Julia Davidson

I had never seen this photo of my grandmother until after she died.  I think a friend of hers snapped it at a brunch or something, but it encapsulates my Grandma Connie perfectly.  Full of joy, full of life, and full of class.  I've always said that I don't think I'll ever meet anyone as classy as my grandma was.  When I look at this photo, I can hear her voice saying my name.  I hope I never lose that memory of her voice that lives in my head.  I have so many memories of my grandma, which I think is lucky.  She lived until I was 21 years old and for most of my life we were just a one hour car ride away from each other.  She and my grandpa were almost always present at birthdays, graduations, and even my prom pre-party (which, at the time, I thought was a little embarrassing- but in retrospect I'm so glad they were there.  She even leant me some neon green heels to wear!).  What I remember the most about my grandma was our close relationship, exchanging letters, phone calls, and even some emails quite frequently.  I remember my first year in college I had to write a religious history of my family and I called my grandma to interview her.  A friend walked my dorm room while we were on the phone and afterwards he asked who I had been talking to.  When I told him it was my grandmother, he seemed shocked.  He told me how lucky I was that I could talk to my grandmother like I would to a friend.  It just never occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to talk to my grandmother about anything and everything.  Sure, I have all the kid memories of spending weekends at their old house, sitting at the kitchen table eating corn pops (which we never got at home), or looking through all her clothes and shoes in the extra closet in the basement, or playing chopsticks on their piano, and all the parties and celebrations we shared.  But my favorite memories are of her voice over the phone, or her handwriting in her letters.  What I remember most is our friendship.  And I miss her so much.  

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From Julia Davidson

I had never seen this photo of my grandmother until after she died.  I think a friend of hers snapped it at a brunch or something, but it encapsulates my Grandma Connie perfectly.  Full of joy, full of life, and full of class.  I've always said that I don't think I'll ever meet anyone as classy as my grandma was.  When I look at this photo, I can hear her voice saying my name.  I hope I never lose that memory of her voice that lives in my head.  I have so many memories of my grandma, which I think is lucky.  She lived until I was 21 years old and for most of my life we were just a one hour car ride away from each other.  She and my grandpa were almost always present at birthdays, graduations, and even my prom pre-party (which, at the time, I thought was a little embarrassing- but in retrospect I'm so glad they were there.  She even leant me some neon green heels to wear!).  What I remember the most about my grandma was our close relationship, exchanging letters, phone calls, and even some emails quite frequently.  I remember my first year in college I had to write a religious history of my family and I called my grandma to interview her.  A friend walked my dorm room while we were on the phone and afterwards he asked who I had been talking to.  When I told him it was my grandmother, he seemed shocked.  He told me how lucky I was that I could talk to my grandmother like I would to a friend.  It just never occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to talk to my grandmother about anything and everything.  Sure, I have all the kid memories of spending weekends at their old house, sitting at the kitchen table eating corn pops (which we never got at home), or looking through all her clothes and shoes in the extra closet in the basement, or playing chopsticks on their piano, and all the parties and celebrations we shared.  But my favorite memories are of her voice over the phone, or her handwriting in her letters.  What I remember most is our friendship.  And I miss her so much.