Malinda Black Poole
August 6, 1923 - January 19, 2011
As a little girl, I always remember going to my grandmother's house and playing with all of my cousins. It was a magical place. A place where a piece of fudge, or rolls, or stickies, or bread was always handy. A place where just a step outside would bring you to the muscadine vines. A place where there were endless possibilities of things to play. We could play house in the playhouse. Play in the tent that was specially made to go over the card table. Play black widow on the trampoline. And Play "spy on the boys." Simply going to her house brings back so many memories. But really, it was grandma that made it special.
As I was able to go to South Carolina this weekend to have a memorial service, of sorts, for my grandmother, it became apparent how much she meant to so many people. We enjoyed remembering different things about her life. Grandma had her little quirks, but remembering them made us all laugh and love her even more. We remembered how she used to rock us in the rocking chair and sing, "My Grandfather's Clock." We remembered how Salmon Salve was the cure-all. And we remembered how we were never allowed to leave her house without a hug and a kiss.
People always used to joke about her being late to everything. It was said more than once that she would be late to her own funeral, and it was true. On Saturday the eighth grandma had a stroke. Her doctor said that she would only last 24-48 hours. So, all of her grandchildren purchased airplane tickets for the following weekend, thinking that would be the time of the funeral. But grandma must have decided that she wanted to see us all and waited until after we left before departing this life. She always did have her own way of doing things.
Goodbye grandma. Until we meet again!
One thing that I remember is grandma telling me about the glass figurines on the living room bathroom wall. She did so because Miles, Zack, and I would sometimes use them as target practice for the bidet (the water squirter from the toilet)! I think she thought if we knew where she'd gotten them, some of their sentimental value, then we wouldn't keep squirting them off the wall. :)
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