I kissed my grandma last week, or at least it feels as though I did. We spent Christmas at Blake's grandmother's farm in Atwood, Kansas. This is very close to McCook, Nebraska- where my grandma Lehman is buried. So we took a little trip to McCook and I got to visit her grave.
I had only been to her grave once before. I was not even a year old, and it was the day she was buried. This grandmother I never got to know, I was able to know through her children. I got to know her through the pots and pans my parents used, through the old mason jars I used as vases, through the old blue spiral that had hand written recipes and clippings from the paper. I got to know her through stories and through pictures, and through the old quilts, hankies, and fabric scraps. She lived all around me through those things, and much more. I feel as though I know her well.
I haven't been able to kiss her on the cheek though, and that's made me feel sad before. When there is someone you feel like you know so well, you want to be able to do that.
When I visited her grave I left a rose. A rose that someone wore in my wedding. I'm not completely sure who though, it was just left in my car. I left it in my car because I just felt like I needed to. I gave her that rose because I wish she could have been there wearing a rose.
When we left, I felt like I had kissed her on the cheek. It was a peaceful feeling.