For Gladys, a southern lady
I got the call a little after 6 a.m. Grandma passed away after midnight. In March she was 92. She had her share of recent health problems; however, she really didn’t start living until Homer, her husband and my grandfather, passed away years prior.
It was a remarkable transformation. She cut her waist-lengh hair short so it would curl. She got out of Kannapolis, North Carolina and travelled with my Aunt Gloria to regularly enjoy the beach at Top Sail island. Grandma took her first plane ride to Florida to attend my brother’s wedding. She danced with a black man–something she could never get away with in Kannapolis. She looked so alive and happy.
There are two things I’ll always remember about Gladys. Her homemade biscuits were great. My brother and I would foam at the mouth once we crossed the NC boarder. Mom would get her grits and scrapple, we would get the biscuits.
The other thing I’ll never forget about my grandmother was a comment she made to me at my brother’s wedding. It was the first time I had seen her since my wedding reception. She gave me a hug, pulled me to the side, and held my hand and whispered, “He was no good. You look happy and much better off.” Someone had obviously told her I got a divorce.
Gladys, I hope you turned cartwheels going through the gates. There should be a fruity, umbrella drink waiting for you and a nice, cabana boy ready to give you a rub down.