The flower girl

My mother, Carlene, her sister, Dot, and their mother, Mimi, used to say, "Put my name under that"--referring to any treasure one had that the other liked a lot. It was a jokey way of saying, "When you're gone, I want that."

Once, Mimi, 46 years older than I, asked me to put HER name under something of mine--her typical optimistic way of assuming she might be here forever!

None of us actually puts a name under a chest or table or picture, but it's a family tradition to say that as a way of complimenting each other on good choices.  Maybe it's our way of acknowledging, obliquely, what we really don't want to talk about--the reality that death will inevitably take us and leave each other with tangible reminders of these good days we have together.

Carlene will say, "You can have this when I'm through with it,"--which means essentially the same thing.

I thought of saying it to Elena yesterday about the watch: "You can have it when I'm through with it." But for now, I can't part with Lloyd Harris' not-real-gold watch.  I wore it to his funeral service, even though the time had stopped.  I brought it home with me and keep it in different rooms in my house so I can look at it and hold it and feel a closeness with him.

My arm will never get "big enough" to wear it all the time, but I love having something in my hand that he treasured and refused to trade for a better watch all those years. Just touching something he touched is a connection to the man who loved with all his whole big heart.

All of those thoughts hung in the air, unspoken, when Elena asked me for Granddaddy's watch.  She rarely asks for anything outright, but she expresses such gratitude for every little thing I give her--as her daddy used to do when he was little.  I wanted to say, "You can have it when I'm through with it"--but I didn't want to frighten her (or myself) with the idea that one day I'd be someplace else just yet.

She admired a jar of flowers Joy had delivered to my porch this week.   Then at the park, we ran into a noisy inebriated man who said, "Show that little girl the purple flowers."  She walked right into the flower bed to smell the flowers up close.  "They smell so beautiful, like shampoo," she said.  "I love flowers, all colors."

Later, she asked me why the "man at the flowers" yelled so much and "talked crazy."  I told her he'd been drinking too much and she wanted to know what he drank "cause I drink a lot of water and it doesn't make me talk like that."

"My doctor at my four-year appointment told my parents not to let me drink too much milk," she added--still working out the connection between drinking and crazy.

"Why?" I asked.

"So I wouldn't have to get too many shots, I think," she said.  "When she gave me my shot I was brave.  My daddy gave me a present because I was brave, but I did also cry.  I was brave AND I cried, both."

When she asked if her great-grandfather loved her from Heaven, what I really wanted to say is, "You have no idea! He wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off you!  You would be the light of his life!"

Like her daddy was. Like Aunt Day was. Like Yenna and Nana were.