Stacks of memories

She had the garage packed to the rafters. So too were the backroom and the basement. A lifetime of accumulation much of it had no value to anyone but her. Amazingly she could put her hand on anything she was looking for. There was no catalogue or filing system, just the memory of the old woman.

A tiny path was carved through the stacks of magazines, books and assorted boxes. Each stack had a story of a part of the old woman’s life. Boxes filled with various hobbies and interests. Here there is a stack of boxes full of handicrafts used to create hand painted Christmas ornaments. Over there are bags full of yarn used on her loom to make blankets, rugs and pillow shams. Back in the corner is a stack of old National Geographic magazines. Next to them is another stack of magazines, Better Homes and Gardens and Ladies Home Journal.

Oh, and there is the boxes of Avon bottles from years of selling and collecting. Each stack, each pile and each box tells a story of this special lady. Stories she was always willing to share and as she begins to talk she would remember one more thing she had in the stacks. In a few minutes she would be back with one more thing to share and show.

The stories were as endless as the eclectic items in the accumulated stacks. She tells her stories with a deep raspy voice and a sparkle in her eyes.

Over the years I was on the receiving end of many of these stories. She is my grandmother. Now in her ninety-first year she is likely coming to the end of her life. The years have caught up with her. She has been fighting the good fight but the prognosis is not good.

My memories of her include spending several days with her and my late grandfather when I was in grade school. She introduced me to Apple Jacks which to this day is one of my favorite breakfast cereals.

Grandma was never known for being punctual getting holiday dinners to the table. Often it was several hours past the regular mealtime of my brothers, sister and me. Stomachs growling and nothing to tide us over until the meal was on the table we learned to be patient and quiet.

One of the favorite things to do at grandmas was using the Viewmaster to see photographs of the world and our favorite cartoon characters. It was stored on a special shelf in the bookcase along with a few other small toys we could play. Her house was mostly a hands-off place for small children. There were lots of breakables and other items which were strictly off-limits.

Grandma showed us love in her own way. In ways just now as an adult I have come to appreciate. If these are her final days my prayer is she will go peacefully. I will miss her greatly. The stacks and piles will be left to be sorted I am sure the items will bring back stories and laughs, joys and sorrows and most of all memories of a lifetime of accumulation.