Tomorrow we will say goodbye to Charlotte Leavell Davis, and celebrate her eternal homecoming. She was your Oma's mother, my grandmother, your great grandmother (GG) and the only great grandparent who got the chance to meet you. She was also the grandparent I knew the longest and so knew the best.
You were too young to be able to remember her, but here are some pieces of her (and some of Grandpa Davis) I will love to share with you throughout the years:
- She and G'pa were travelers. They had several motor homes over the years and I would play in them like they were a play house. One day I look forward to traveling with your father and I will have been inspired by their traveling, adventurous spirit.
- They collected glass. No, really, I mean COLLECTED. I loved it when they would return from one of their spontaneous trips and call, saying they had boxes of glass that needed to be unpacked. We would go to their house and I got to sit on the floor and unpack each and every piece, until my hands were black from the newsprint wrapping, while they told us the story of their adventure. As much as they collected, however, they also gave away, especially in more recent years. At almost every opportunity GG would insist that friends, family, visitors pick a piece of glass from the collection to take with them. I know, just as they are for me, those pieces will hold memories of her for each of them, possibly even for generations to come.
- She once rescued and raised a baby squirrel that they found in their yard. She named her Mary and every day GG went outside with some nuts and called for her. That squirrel would come running, climb up GG's leg, around her back and perch on her shoulder to eat her treats. We even once took Mary and Susie, the cat, in separate pet carriers on a weekend trip to Luray. From then on squirrels became GG's favorite animal and I think of her every time I see one (in other words, all the time).
- Every time she hugged you she quick-patted your back then she would squeeze with a "MmmMM!". They were called love taps, it was her signature move and they will be passed on to you.
- I loved her white bean soup that she served with a piece of buttered bread. To this day that simple meal is the epitome of home and comfort to me.
- She wasn't a fan of my long, unruly hair that I would keep in a horrible pony tail that drooped down to the middle of my back and wanted so badly for me to cut it but I refused. One night she offered to give me a little trim and I agreed, but only a trim. She cut it all the way up to my jaw.
- Hot hands run in the family. She would touch your hand, exclaim if they were cold and hold them between hers, telling you she would warm them up for you. Her hands started to get cold in her older age so one year for Christmas I made her hand/wrist gauntlets in pink (her favorite color) and gray with my very limited knitting skills. She kept them by her chair and I loved seeing her wear them.
- She crocheted hand towels by the hundreds and gave them to everyone she knew every chance she got, almost like a calling card. She always asked what color people's kitchens were to make sure she made a towel to match.
- She loved jokes and had a great sense of humor. For example, did you hear the one about the girl who ran into the screen door? She strained herself!
- Once I brought the boy I was dating to a family pool picnic at GG and G'pa's house. He saw a mosquito land on my arm and smacked me to kill it. GG only saw that he smacked me and was about to come around the table faster than he could blink in my defense to do some smacking of her own. I think he saw the look on her face and was fearful for his safety but she was looking out for me.
- My favorite GG story is is a true doozy. Many years ago, when Uncle Edmond was young, she took him on a shopping trip. She sat in the parking lot, patiently waiting with her turn signal on for a car to leave the parking space she intended to take. Someone else, however, thought otherwise and whipped into the spot instead. GG was so angry she asked Ed for a piece of gum, chewed it then crammed it into the offending driver's lock with her thumb! In other words, don't mess with the Davis women.
By the time your father and I got around to trying to start growing our family GG's mind just wasn't what it used to be. Signs of dementia were showing more and more and sometimes our weekly phone conversations could be challenging. She knew she wasn't remembering or understanding things like she used to and it distressed her. Feeling sensitive to that at first I wasn't sure I wanted to tell her about our pending pregnancy until we were past the first trimester, I didn't want to upset or confuse her if something happened. Not long after we found out we were pregnant the first time Grandma went to the hospital for health complications. Suddenly I realized if, heaven forbid, something were to happen to her while she was there I didn't want her to have not known we were expecting her 6th great grand child, so we made sure she knew we were expecting. Unfortunately we lost the first baby, and the second, but GG turned out to be one of my greatest, most uplifting supporters as we worked through those difficult times. She told me everything happens for a reason and the losses meant that something had been wrong and the right time would come for us. She was so right as we were blessed with you.
Finally you arrived and I was thrilled to be able to introduce you to GG. She had moved into a small group assisted living home as her dementia and health continued to deteriorate. Sometimes she recognized who was visiting her by face, sometimes by name, sometimes only one visitor but not another and sometimes she would talk about her visitors in the 3rd person. I quickly had to adjust to just going with the flow when I would sit next to her and listen to her talk about "Amy" as if I were an entirely different person.
With that in mind I imagine it's not hard to understand how surprised I was by her response when we first took you to meet her. Mom greeted GG first and told her Clif and I were there with you. She wasn't sure about your dad and me, but she immediately recognized your name and started looking around to see you. Having never met you I was touched and thrilled she made that connection. At first she was content to smile at you and pat your leg, then I asked her if she wanted to hold you. She didn't think she could be trusted, saying it had been so long since she'd held a baby she didn't think she could do it right, but I was right there next to her so I just went ahead and stuck you in her arms.
Flynn, she was so happy to hold you she cried. I have a picture of those very first moments, the tears in her eyes, how quiet, peaceful and content you were, such a perfect angel to her. Every time I see it or think of that moment I will feel her and be thankful. She held you for quite some time, gently patting your leg nonstop and alternating between telling you how sweet you were and wondering if she felt sure she was capable of holding you. She patted and patted and you brushed her chin between bouts of snoozing.
During the last week she was with us, when she wasn't really responsive to us she responded to you. One time Oma took you to see her and let you sit next to her on the bed so she could pat your shoulders. A couple of days later we visited again and I held you up in front of her so she could see you and we listened as she called you 'pretty baby' and 'sweet baby' over and over. You cooed, smiled, patted her leg and held her hand and though I know you weren't aware of the good you were doing I'm so thankful for the wonderful experience it was for you both.
It wasn't just GG that you brought joy to, you were a dose of baby therapy to all of the other residents. One day your dad and I were leaving the house and as Oma was saying goodbye to the caregivers I glanced across the room at a resident sitting next to the window who was pointing repeatedly to another resident sitting on the opposite side of the room. I looked and saw she was quietly crying and immediately walked over to her with you in tow. She looked up from her lap, saw you and her face lit up, a huge smile spread across her face. I stood in front of her with your car seat propped against my thigh so she could tickle your feet, stroke your hands and tell you how wonderful you were. After we spent several minutes with her we visited the other residents to let them all have a quick turn. The next time we visited you were sitting in GG's room and you started to squeak loudly. That same resident came down the hall to investigate what was making all that noise and stopped mid-sentence when she saw you. She didn't come into GG's room but stood right at the doorjamb, leaning in through the door to coo at you, so we went over to her to give her a better look and let her play with you. For a few minutes I didn't think Oma and I would be able to leave that night, we were trapped by your arresting cuteness and her reluctance to let us take you away.
We didn't take you back to visit GG as often as we should have and that is my fault. I'm thankful for the time we did get to spend with her and I know we brought her love and joy. Seeing the joy you also brought the other residents has made me realize that just because GG is no longer with us doesn't mean we can't still share that joy with the ones that remain. As often as we are able I'll take you to see them so they can gently pat you and call you 'sweet baby', just like your great grandmother did.
In recent years GG would often marvel at her wonderful family and we would tell her it was her fault, she and Grandpa started it. The obvious reality is that our family, who we are today, is because of so many people who came before us and serendipitous events that expanded our family by marriages but it's also a reality that she was a huge part of molding who Oma was and, in turn, who your aunt, uncle and myself are. I like to hope that I am a distant reflection of the incredible woman she was and her influence is one of the greatest gifts I'll ever be able to give. It's a gift I am eager to pass on to you.
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