i get really down when i think about my MeMaw Cheatham. she died when i was in 4th grade of Leukemia, before i ever got the chance to really appreciate who she was, and how much of her lived inside me.
days spent with her were never without a pad of good paper and chalk pastels. she would always sit me down and draw something out for me, then i would add all the color. or she would let me pummel through her train cases of make up and jewelry. or rummage through her closet stuffed full of amazing garments that i was too young to covet and realize how cool of a style she had.
she had this really awesome Cajun-French accent and she was pretty reserved and modest--the complete opposite of me and my dad...don't know where we got our boistrous ass-holiness..
i could sum up their house in many words:
art. french onion dip. garden. national geographic. golf clubs. croquet. mardi gras beads. quirky magnets. crochet'd everything. king cake. organ. bee stings. learning.
i miss her so much and wish that i could go back, knowing the things i know now and really hang out with her. pick her brain. learn more. when i think back, i was probably such a little shit and took her existence for granted. i guess you always do.
i feel that i got to sink in the life of MeMaw Branche a little more. and i got to spend a weekend with her 1 month before she passed, for which i will always be grateful, but of course, is never enough. i want more of both of them, in the real.