For most my life I have really hated the month of March. I am always ready for spring but March is just a month in between, it isn’t winter but it isn’t really spring. It is rainy and chilly, and I am ready for change. I am always tired of my warm clothes, sick of boots and finding matching socks. When I go shopping to find something new, everything is much too lightweight and "springy" to wear right away. There are no fun holidays, except one involving green beer and I am not Irish. Sometimes Easter lands in March which makes it a little better.
Early on March 14th 2004, My Mom called to let me know my Grandma Jo had passed away. As I climbed back in bed after my Mom’s phone call, I told Jon about my Grandma and said "I’ve always hated March" and I cried myself to sleep.
The following week while we prepared for her funeral, I enjoyed staring up at pillows of pink blossoms with my puffy eyes. I was in a daze as Jon drove me around town, I would quietly stare out the windows. I had red sunglasses at the time with pink lenses. Looking through them I couldn’t believe how beautiful it all was, driving past one brilliant pink tree after another. As each blossom bloomed, I found more comfort in their beauty, I started to like March a little more.
Each year since then, I eagerly wait for the big pink explosion in mid-March! As I drive around looking at all the blossoms I think about my Grandma a lot. I remember going to horse races and movies together. I think about the funny little tasks she would ask me to do, so she could "pay" me. She believed in working to earn your money but never really wanted me to work too terribly hard. So I would do silly tasks like rearrange her furniture or address her Christmas cards. I often think about her trying to teach me to knit. With her by my side, I would knit and pearl away creating a little blue scarf. The minute I was on my own, I would get completely lost and mess it all up. She fixed my mistakes with ease. I remember not wanting to visit her when I was on a diet. I miss her extra cheesy macaroni and cheese and piles of homemade french fries served on paper bags. I know all my former roommates remember the miniature peanut butter cup cookies, carefully arranged on a styrofoam tray. She always sent an extra batch home for them. She would say "Now, Heather don’t eat all those, I made them for"….. Jon, or Ember or Cory, whoever I was living with at the moment. I think of her standing on her balcony, waving goodbye and yelling "Love You" with a HUGE smile on her face.
She pretty much planned her whole funeral for us, from the hymns to the prayer cards. She was always taking care of us. I made the beeswax collage above from her prayer card. It reads:
In Loving Memory of
Josephine D. Osby
1920-2004
God of Heaven and Earth, we rest in your love the life of our beloved. We pray, as you have always directed and consoled your children in this life, that you will be pleased to accept this one we send to you in death and through our prayers. May our beloved share your home with your angels and saints forever and ever.
-Amen