My Grandmother
A mere fifteen hours after the passing of my Grandfather, his wife decided to follow him. She was like that --far be it for her to be left out of anything. He asked to be wheeled over to her to kiss her goodbye before he left us, and she fell asleep with no intention of ever waking.
They were married in December of 1949. He fell in love with her when he heard her play the piano. She was an artist, an eccentric, and incredibly smart.
We sang show tunes, looked at expensive things in magazines, and she let me play with her valuable trinkets as if they were toys. Like me, she had a knack for laughing at inappropriate times. She had wild curiosity, taste as chic as it was gaudy, and a penchant for dignified sarcasm. She was Jackie O in smart suits, and Zsa Zsa Gabor with fingers of thick diamond rings and squinted, laughing eyes. She used to make me cucumber sandwiches and chocolate milk. She would line up a porcelain doll audience and applaud when I made up little skits and songs. She cooed over my drawings and poems and framed them around her house (no fridge magnets for her-- my work was in mahogany frames just like the Monet prints and 1930's portraits). In recent years we took to having posh lunches, speaking in the voices of Southern socialites, and seeing musicals at Shenandoah Summer Theater. She let me drive her car and wear her bangles, I confided in her and laughed at her clucking disapproval of my tattoos.
Once I found a picture of her when she was young, and she held next to it a picture of me at the same age to show how exactly we looked alike. We were alike, really. We were the "artsy ones," like my uncle kit and my brother are the musicians, and my mother and grandfather are the business savvy ones. It took me too long to realize it.
For my own personal memorial service to this great woman, I plan to plant wildflowers in my garden, eating cucumber sandwiches and singing show tunes all the while.
Christine Tew Molden, October 10, 1918 - April 25, 2007
They were married in December of 1949. He fell in love with her when he heard her play the piano. She was an artist, an eccentric, and incredibly smart.
We sang show tunes, looked at expensive things in magazines, and she let me play with her valuable trinkets as if they were toys. Like me, she had a knack for laughing at inappropriate times. She had wild curiosity, taste as chic as it was gaudy, and a penchant for dignified sarcasm. She was Jackie O in smart suits, and Zsa Zsa Gabor with fingers of thick diamond rings and squinted, laughing eyes. She used to make me cucumber sandwiches and chocolate milk. She would line up a porcelain doll audience and applaud when I made up little skits and songs. She cooed over my drawings and poems and framed them around her house (no fridge magnets for her-- my work was in mahogany frames just like the Monet prints and 1930's portraits). In recent years we took to having posh lunches, speaking in the voices of Southern socialites, and seeing musicals at Shenandoah Summer Theater. She let me drive her car and wear her bangles, I confided in her and laughed at her clucking disapproval of my tattoos.
Once I found a picture of her when she was young, and she held next to it a picture of me at the same age to show how exactly we looked alike. We were alike, really. We were the "artsy ones," like my uncle kit and my brother are the musicians, and my mother and grandfather are the business savvy ones. It took me too long to realize it.
For my own personal memorial service to this great woman, I plan to plant wildflowers in my garden, eating cucumber sandwiches and singing show tunes all the while.
Christine Tew Molden, October 10, 1918 - April 25, 2007