Coffee with my Dranny
It’s been nearly two months since my Dranny, Lovetta Childs, passed away on July 7.
In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been able to find some new sense of normal, but there are times when the grief hits me unexpectedly and leaves me with tears running down my face.
Sunday mornings are the hardest though. It’s the day of the week when she passed and Sunday mornings are so quiet that there’s almost no chance that the memory won’t come directly to mind. So I’m left reliving the morning when she passed and wondering when exactly the pain of the grief might subside.
I try to remember happier memories of my Dranny whenever possible. So at times like this, I try to replace the memory of the morning she passed with the memory of the morning I was with her in ICU after staying overnight with her. She had woken up at 4:30 or so and asked me whether or not I had the coffeepot set up for the morning. Something that was always a concern in our house because my Dranny needed her cup of coffee first thing. In fact, I’m pretty sure I inherited my caffeine addiction from her.
I assured her the coffee would be ready first thing and that I had our cups all ready, too. Later that morning, she was alert and responsive, and she had improved dramatically. In fact, the ICU nurses were expressing cautious optimism that she’d be out of ICU in no time at all and back home within days.
That morning, I stayed with my Dranny and we had our cups of coffee, gossiped and fought over whether or not I was going to share her eggs. She won. I shared in the misery of eating what I’m pretty sure was plastic masquerading as scrambled eggs. But by gosh, we were having coffee, gossip and breakfast together, and it was my time with my Dranny and it reminded me of all the mornings that she and I had sat on her patio or at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee before everyone else was up and at it. Those quiet mornings when we would talk about anything, everything or nothing at all. Those mornings are part of my collection of precious memories of my Dranny.
This morning, I’m sitting on my patio. Drinking coffee out of the cup I keep at the house just for her. Because my Dranny only drank coffee from her Fire King cups. And I’m remembering how lucky I was to have had her in my life for so long as I did.