January, 1972: I met my paternal grandmother, Bula Margaret Elizabeth Lefave Lathem, for the first time. I like to think that she was in such a hurry to meet me, that she didn't even take the time to take off her hat.
For me, it was love at first sight. Grandma was a grandma through and through. She baked, and crocheted (except on Sundays!), always had a mint in her purse, and a kleenex in her pocket. Her smile would light up a room, reaching right to her eyes and making everyone feel welcome. Her laughter was like a song in the breeze, her voice was soothing and light. She had the softest skin imaginable - holding her hand felt like being encompassed in warm silk.
Over the years, whether she consciously realised it or not, Grandma taught me the importance of family, and the stories of days gone by. Whether it the times Uncle Sam pulled a fast one on her mother; or when Grandpa had tried (in vain) to teach her to drive; how the girl next door was buried in a glass casket, or how Great Grandpa Lathem could have circled the globe with his daily walks. There was always a story to tell, always a family member to learn more about.
My Grandma left big shoes to fill when she passed away, but she also left an unimaginable wealth of memories, and plenty of stories to share. Hopefully, from time to time, you'll get a glimpse of even just a small part of her light and love through my writing.
