My paternal grandmother died when I was only two. I've seen pictures of her and was told that I have her eyes. One can only feel a void when someone as special as one of your Grandmas is missing. And, all my life I couldn't help but think that if my eyes look like hers did, then we must be somewhat alike, she and I.
A few years ago, I was at a tea party with some other ladies. I remember the hostess bringing china plates of cookies and other delicate treats to the table for us to nibble on, and her dining table was covered with a linen table cloth and set with fancy china cups and saucers. I'd always been fascinated with tea parties, so my mind quickly reverted to my childhood when I hosted grand tea parties for my imaginary friends beneath the big tree that grew beside our house.
When the hostess came to me and reached for my cup, she smiled and said, "You don't know this, but this teapot belonged to your Grandma. I bought it years ago at the auction sale after she died."
I have no idea how I responded to what she said, except I remember that my heart started pounding and about jumped out of my sweater and onto the table. Never in a million years did I expect anything like that. As anyone who knows me can attest to, I don't get through things like that without getting weepy, alot weepy. You know, come to think of it, that's another thing I inherited from her--Grandma was said to be laughing one minute and crying the next!
Well, through the thoughtfulness and generosity of the hostess, the following Valentine's Day I was gifted with the teapot. The perfect gift for the holiday of love. I am sure Grandma held me and talked with me when I was just a baby, but I was too young to know. But, now as I hold her teapot in my hands, I know that her hands held it, too, and with my creative imagination we do sip tea together and chat about how I grew up, got married, and all sorts of other life stuff, including a secret or two. We can laugh and we can cry. Just the two of us--and a little black teapot.