My grandmother's name is Patricia Kelly Fatter, but we call her Pat for short. I lived with her about two years ago when I was in between houses and she needed some help around the house. I think this was when I realized she was the cutest creature I have ever seen. There were so many moments I wished someone would have been there with me to hear and see the things that that went on so I thought I would at least put them here.
If you know Pat, you know she loves her Blue Bell ice cream. We used to joke that the men that pick up the recycling probably think we are a bunch of fatties by the amount of empty Blue Bell containers we put out each week. I used to make her a parfait every night. One layer blueberries, one layer Vanilla Bean, another layer of blueberries, another layer of Vanilla Bean. Those made her so happy. Sometimes she would just sit there and say to herself (repeatedly) "This is so good, I don't want it to end." The seriousness in her voice was hilarious. She genuinely did not want it to end.
After she ate her parfait she would go get ready for bed. One night I was reading in the other room and I could hear her shuffling around. I heard her talking but I knew she wasn't on the phone so I went quietly to the doorway only to see her saying goodnight to the picture of my grandfather by her bedside. I caught the tail end which was "G'night Darlin" in that wonderful New Orleans accent. As if that didn't pull on my heart strings enough I kept listening as she said all of her evening prayers (out loud). I can't explain why but it brought tears to my eyes. The good kind of tears though. I used to sneak in there every night after that and listen to her say her prayers. There is something so comforting about listening to her pray.
Pat and I would have some good chats about life. Nothing too long, nothing too involved but they would come up here and there. One I can remember well was when I was asking her about when she was younger. She was an only child and her mom was in and out of a wheel chair her whole life. I asked her if she liked being an only child or if she wanted siblings. Her answer was that she would pray every night for a baby brother and a stick of gum. The simplicity of this made me smile. Sometimes I wish my wants were that simple.
Tomorrow we are headed to her house to celebrate her 90th birthday. I will be sure to make her a blueberry parfait, just like old times.
