In loving memory...

When I heard the news, it was like time stopped for a few seconds.  Sure, Shirley is Jason's grandmother, not mine, but such things like blood and expectation never mattered much when it came to what Shirley and I had.

She was the first of the Dodds that I ever met while I was dating Jason.  She invited Jason over for dinner and he asked if he could bring me along.  The moment I met her we had a connection.  It was strange, like we had always known one another somehow.  We became instant friends, the beautiful kind of friend that loves you all the way to your soul.  Jason's father called us "kindred spirits" once.  I think that's a great way of putting it.  There was always something familiar and comfortable about being with her, like being at home by a warm fireplace. 

I wish somehow I had possessed the forethought to take notes or record some of our conversations.  I would love for the girls and Sam to be able to, one day, hear all the things she shared with me.  Shirley was sentimental and loved her family.  She told me wonderful stories of her history and life.  My favorite parts were always when she would laugh and her eyes would light up from a memory as she shared it with me.  We spent hours together talking about nothing and everything.    It wasn't all good stuff either. You know, that is what was so great about her.  She was real.  

Shirley was, for me, a safe place to run.  She always loved me.  Always.  There were times when I would pour out my broken heart before her and she would just gather it up and lovingly give it back to me with a message of hope or wisdom.  She was that kind of woman.   During one the hardest times of my life, she said to me, "Susan, you can forgive anything, if you want to.  You just have to decide if you want to or not. It won't be easy, but you can do anything if you just make a decision to do it."  And, as always, she was right. Shirley knew heartache, but she also knew how to forgive.  I am thankful that she taught me how to forgive too.  

Jason told me that Shirley was the only person that had loved him perfectly over his entire life.  She was always there, even when it got hard and ugly, when no one else thought she should, her loved found him and loved him anyway.  I hope to love like that.

Shirley didn't talk about God much, but she lived Him superbly. 

I know that there must have been something about Shirley that was not perfect, right?   She was a hopeless collector.  Sometimes she had a short temper with Lou, she would tell me how she hated that about herself.  She always told me that she wished she would have learned to stand up for herself and speak up.  She hated when I took close up photos of her because she didn't like looking "so old."  She hated cats, loved squirrels and you couldn't keep her away from the "different" foods at Tuesday Morning.  She stuck her foot in her mouth on occasion. She lived in her own world sometimes-  a world where she was American Indian and where an antique reproduction Windsor chair sits next to a ceramic head of Spock from Star Trek.  Yet, none of that made her imperfect.  It worked wonderfully for her because all of these quirks made her Shirley. And no one that knows her would have changed a thing.

I remember when Shirley came to the NICU to meet our Samuel for the first time.  She was afraid to hold him because he was so small.  He is almost three years old now and when she came to visit a few weeks ago, she was so proud of him.  I hope that I can help him remember her.  "Where's Shir-ree?, "She's in heaven now."

What will I tell Samuel about his great-grandmother?  I will tell him about the costume party that she threw for his sisters, I will tell him about the times that she and I laughed until our sides hurt and we had tears running down our faces.  I will tell him about how I called her "Guio" when she was acting mischievous and spunky.  Mostly, though, I will tell him that I hope one day to be as great of a grandmother to his children as she was to me and his daddy.

 Until we meet again... I love you.