Might be the latest 5 Minute Friday post ever submitted (so I’m back posting)… but anyway… here’s my five minutes of writing on “brave”…
Her last words to me were “be a brave Irene.” Obviously, name isn’t Irene. It was just a little inside joke. She new this sister of the four would need to be brave. Being the oldest wasn’t my choice, but she new it was as position of birth that must come with bravery.
She knew those words would bring a smile to my face. At the same time, they bring tears. Not because I’m sad, I don’t think, I think it’s the flood of emotions that come behind remembering. We had the best times together playing the best games. I never tired of hearing her stories from growing up on the farm, being a nurse overseas and climbing the pyramids, the antics of my dad pulled as a boy. After dinner we always went for a long walk. I appreciate that so much more now than I did then. But I always remember wanting to walk next to her. And then there were the stories she told and the books and books of poems she wrote. I treasure the red cloth covered one I have with the handwritten poems.
I don’t remember the exact words she read that day as we sat on her pink couch. But I do remember falling off the couch laughing. We both laughed for so long as the tears rolled down our face. She had just mixed up the words and said something funny to my 10 year old ears. Brave reminds me of my grandma Betty as she fought the cancer that worked it’s way through her organs.
I could write so.much.more on Grandma Betty, but there are my 5 minutes for now…