“My grandmother didn't talk about love. When you're made of love, there's no need for words.”
So much truth in that statement.Thank you for taking me down a path in my heart that leads to memories of my gramma. How you gently touch her face with an opened hand, is how I greeted my own gramma. Time has taken the visual memories, leaving pictures blurred behind rain soaked glass. Close my eyes , and like you, I smell her ‘clean’ scent. I can still feel how her smile made me melt. And I can hear her soft melodic voice telling bedtime fables that ended with a moral to them, as she sat on the edge of the bed in the dark. You have reminded me where I can always find my gramma. And in return, now you know your children will always find you, if they just close their eyes.
I really like your notion of recalling the senses when remembering a beloved person. I have long had a disembodied childhood recollection of the scent of cold cream. It never made sense to me; this olfactory memory would just come and go. After reading your piece I realized that my maternal grandmother smelled of cold cream. She died when I was a kid, but I was old enough to know that she loved me and I loved her. Thanks for helping me recall the personal significance of this simple fragrance, and with it, a special lady.
Lovely memories. She must have been a lovely woman. I like how you make memories with your children even if it embarrasses them. Sometimes its the odd things we do that make good memories.
Beautiful! Your grandmother sounds like she was wonderful women. As you describe, it’s so bittersweet that when we are full of life, finally realising our full potential based upon foundation they gave us, they in turn are gently slipping away.
They say that scents are the most evocative of memories. I could walk right now in the house I grew up, where other people live now, and if it didn’t smell like it used to, I wouldn’t know where I was. Thank you for reading. That you remember your daughter’s scent is a beautiful thing.
I think I agree re: scent - having read your posting, I also remember my mom’s scent (floral), my dad’s scent (woodsy) and my brother’s scent (sort of peppery and sort of leafy, like new leaves). Thanks again, your posting has triggered very fond memories 🥰
“My grandmother didn't talk about love. When you're made of love, there's no need for words.”
So much truth in that statement.Thank you for taking me down a path in my heart that leads to memories of my gramma. How you gently touch her face with an opened hand, is how I greeted my own gramma. Time has taken the visual memories, leaving pictures blurred behind rain soaked glass. Close my eyes , and like you, I smell her ‘clean’ scent. I can still feel how her smile made me melt. And I can hear her soft melodic voice telling bedtime fables that ended with a moral to them, as she sat on the edge of the bed in the dark. You have reminded me where I can always find my gramma. And in return, now you know your children will always find you, if they just close their eyes.
What a beautiful comment Lor. Grandparent love is the purest. No demands, just comfort.
I really like your notion of recalling the senses when remembering a beloved person. I have long had a disembodied childhood recollection of the scent of cold cream. It never made sense to me; this olfactory memory would just come and go. After reading your piece I realized that my maternal grandmother smelled of cold cream. She died when I was a kid, but I was old enough to know that she loved me and I loved her. Thanks for helping me recall the personal significance of this simple fragrance, and with it, a special lady.
Grandmother smells are always grounding.
Lovely memories. She must have been a lovely woman. I like how you make memories with your children even if it embarrasses them. Sometimes its the odd things we do that make good memories.
Thank you Jeanne. 😊
Beautiful! Your grandmother sounds like she was wonderful women. As you describe, it’s so bittersweet that when we are full of life, finally realising our full potential based upon foundation they gave us, they in turn are gently slipping away.
What at beautiful comment Jo.
This was lovely. It made my heart smile.
So warming. This hits really close to home. Thank you for sharing this with us.
ahhhhh!
This is very sweet, and it’s interesting that we remember scent; my daughter passed years ago, and I remember her scent as “fresh” - thanks for this
They say that scents are the most evocative of memories. I could walk right now in the house I grew up, where other people live now, and if it didn’t smell like it used to, I wouldn’t know where I was. Thank you for reading. That you remember your daughter’s scent is a beautiful thing.
I think I agree re: scent - having read your posting, I also remember my mom’s scent (floral), my dad’s scent (woodsy) and my brother’s scent (sort of peppery and sort of leafy, like new leaves). Thanks again, your posting has triggered very fond memories 🥰
I can't stop crying
Memories indeed
Beautiful!
Thank you Jenny!