Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Tribute · #951349
Life continues to blossom even when its' garden goes unattended.
|Throughout my childhood and young adult years my fathers' mother Eleanor was an enigma. I envisioned her as a deteriorated and embittered old woman who bequeathed no love nor reciprocated it. |
I visited her a few times as a child and remember her dilapidated and weathered dwelling. A thick, uninviting terrain was its neglected landscape and a canopy of unknown, creature-like vines encompassed it. Eleanor was the embodiment of her surroundings and she was unwittingly entangled there. It would be years before I truly came to know Eleanor, the woman I now call Nana.
Seven years ago my Nana’s home was destroyed by fire, the culprit was the years of neglect and disrepair. However, her misfortune became my good fortune.
When Nana came to live with my father, I became delighted to get to know her and my mislead feelings towards her diminished.
Nana was an alcoholic.
She had been admonished by most of her family to a life of drunken solitude. Alone, hopeless, and sick, Nana existed without reason. Tragedy turned into hope that year, and the new found love my Nana and I shared blossomed.
Sobriety evolved with the loving and supportive years that followed, although she did succumb to her old friend “the bottle” a few times, the demons that once relished in her misery were expelled, and God cradled her with love and protection during her final years.
Nana was charmingly eccentric. She was a tiny woman in stature, and gentle in her presence. Her hair suffered severe damage from repetitive “home perms” and over- dyeing, her lipstick was always misapplied, and her make-up was tacky. Her perfume was pungent and overwhelming. However, she was the most beautiful woman to ever grace my eyes.
I remember how she would sit, with her legs crossed and her tiny hands folded together. When complimented, she would squint her shy, green eyes, smile and giggle as a young schoolgirl might while having her picture taken.
Our love for one another flourished.
Nana’s last years of life were nurtured by God’s blessings, and with the bold colored leaves of fall she blossomed into our autumn flower.