The Blues

Yesterday was a very important day in my life and in the lives of my family. Yesterday marked two years since my dear, sweet grandmother left this world. Two years since one of the greatest loves I have ever known bid adieu to the family that she treasured more than anything in the world. Two years. Two years. Two very hard years. Her passing certainly left a gaping hole in my heart. I know that I'm not the only one who feels this way. But she was that kind of woman. One who loved unconditionally and whose love was a blessing and a gift. One whose love taught us what love is. Taught us how to love without limits. Without fault. With forgiveness. With grace. She was nothing short of remarkable. She was my beautiful, blue-eyed lady.

Last night, I spoke about two books that my Ella and I read together, and I focused more on A Mother's Wish than on the other. A Blue So Blue is about a little French boy who dreams of a certain kind of blue. And he leaves home on a journey in search of the blue of his dreams. He visits a museum, travels to the ocean, boards a ship to the tropics, crosses the sea to America, ventures to Africa... all in search of the blue of his dreams. Finally, he realizes that the blue which he so earnestly seeks is at home, in his mother's eyes.

In my life, some of my dearest family members have striking blue eyes. My Ella has gorgeous sky blue eyes. My mother's are the color of my grandmother's eyes... eyes that are warm and icy blue at the same time. My Summit has sea greenish-blue eyes with little gold circles around his pupils. Matt and his mother have ocean blue eyes. All of their eyes reflect goodness, kindness, hope, happiness, and blessings beyond compare. It is no wonder that my favorite color is blue. For me, the color brings calm and joy and peace. For me, blue equals love.

I find it interesting that the term "the blues" is associated with sadness and heartache and hardship. When women have postpartum depression, they have the baby blues. Singers along the Mississippi Delta sing the blues about struggles in life. And on this day, when my heart weeps for missing my grandmother, when I all I wish for is just one more moment with her to gaze into her eyes, some might say that I have the blues.

Isn't it ironic that the blue eyes that brought me so much love and adulation and contentment... that the absence of the blue, of her, brings great sadness and longing for her? I suppose, then, that I am sad that I don't have the blues. It's like a contradiction of terms. What I know more than anything, on this day, is that my life is better for having had her at all. That the world is a better place for having someone of her caliber in it. That I am blessed beyond measure because she was my grandmother, my beautiful, blue-eyed lady. And that I should be thankful for every second that she was here.

But the coolest thing is that I know she's still here. She lives on in our hearts and in our actions. And she lets us know that she's watching over us even in her passing. I know this because my mom used to call her "Ladybug." When Grandma died, there were ladybugs everywhere outside, and at her graveside service, they were all around for her great-grands to play with. She comes to us this way still. And yesterday, when we visited her and my Popa's grave, there they were... two little ladybugs hanging out to say hello. Thanks for that. I miss you both.