As I strolled past the yellow mums my stomach did a little flip. My face must of been a tad pale, because one of mine asked, “Mummy, what’s wrong?” I stopped the cart and just stared, unanswered.

Last year, I had searched every store in the entire north area of my city for those mums. Not one could be found. Oh, sure, lots of other colors which didn’t interest me were available, but those wouldn’t do. No, not for the reason I wanted them. I gave up- it wasn’t meant to be at the time.

credit: National Chrysanthemum Society

Just a few weeks before my find, I had a dream about her. Nothing life changing, just a simple dream that was more like a memory from my childhood. It was enough to get me thinking about her a lot. Feelings of guilt abounded for not telling her thank you or letting her know how much I loved her. Thoughts about all the unkind things I said to her over the years because I was raised to believe she was going to hell for believing different than my family. Wishes I could have more of her never ending patience with me. Regret I didn’t go to her funeral.

Then I started to analyze my time with her. Even though I was told she did raise her voice with her kids, I never once remember her doing that with me. She would take time with me; she would actually sit down and play one on one. She listened and let me try new things that I always wanted to do, like run my own lemonade stand. She cared- sometimes too much about me.

I would laugh and make jokes with my mom and sister about her as a child. I never saw her for who she really was. Yes, maybe time has faded my memories, but I know that she was a caring lady that I didn’t give enough respect and love. She always stood up for my mom, even when she didn’t agree. She tried to make the best out of the less than perfect visitation arrangement. She never let me say negative about her or complain, even though I know sometimes she knew it was warranted. I just wish I had given her the same consideration.

Since the dream, I have felt her presence around me at times. Like her warm unconditional love hugging me, reminding that not everyone thought she was perfect either. That no matter how sweet, giving, caring and involved of a being she was in life, we still found fault. Letting me know she understands. She forgives.

Every time I look at those yellow mums, I think about sitting on her front steps talking about school and my life. I think about her planting those mums right next to those cement stairs. I think about her love and all the lessons she has taught me, both in her life and her death.

I know I should of told you sooner, Grammy, I am thankful for you.

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