22 years ago I was sitting in the lobby of a hospital in Dallas coloring wrapping paper with my sister. (back then you could safely leave your kids in a hospital lobby and not worry about them!) we were there because my grandmother was going through experimental cancer treatments. They knew it wasn’t going to be good, but they wanted her to have every option available.

I don’t remember tons of details about those days. But a few I can draw from my recollections. I remember that paper. I remember the boxes my mom used in our garland that were left over from the shots my Papa had to give her. I remember him putting straws in the little jars of ensure for her to drink. I remember the hospital bed that sat in their living room. In the same place their couch now dwells. I remember barely being able to peer over the handles on the side of the bed to see her weak and frail body. I remember the last time I saw her she took a nap with Nelly, my cabbage patch doll. I remember the Sunday morning my dad sat my sister and I down to tell us she had passed. My mom was cleaning out her refrigerator and I can only imagine the feeling in the room when she drew in that last breath of East Texas air.

For some time tonight I sat on my couch and mourned her passing in a way that I have never known how to.

There are moments where I can hear her voice. A twang that I can only faintly remember and probably know more from the videos of my childhood.

I grew up not knowing her. Not knowing her at least in the way that I should have. She was a seamstress, a baker, a supportive wife and mom and most importantly the best grandmother. Her house was always an adventure land (although I attribute that more to my Papa) and going to visit was a vacation a treat that I wish I could re-experience. Picking pecans in the back yard, shelling peas on the park bench after supper, blackberry cobblers, drop in guests and Friday night at the church with the Triple L club (still don’t know what the three L’s are).

I miss her. I missed the memories we could have had and the moments we didn’t share.

She is the reason I got involved with Relay for Life. The face I could see when I thought of celebrating a life, remembering the loss and a reason to fight back!

Tonight I made her cake. The cake. The one that my dad married my mom for. The one that mom makes better than me and the one that grandmother made better than her. The one that fell apart when she put it in layers and tonight, my heart did the same.

I’m not sure what happened this time when I iced it. Maybe it’s the fact that i made it for my new ACS family. The ones who are daily in this fight with me. The ones who have grandmothers, friends, sisters, dads or kids who they lost memories with for the same reason and it was not enough until they gave every thing.

She was a remarkable woman. And her picture in my wallet serves as a reminder to capture everyday moments, to fill them to over flowing and to give until I’m give out.

Wonder what she would think of me making a strawberry cake for the cancer staff meeting?