angels on your pillow...

Tradition has always held deep meaning to me. Not because it is the way things have to be done, but because it feels like coming home after a long time away. Do you know what I mean? Like putting on your favorite sweater. Like egg nog on Christmas eve, like Catch Phrase and sweet potato casserole every Thanksgiving. Like my family repeatedly saying "Caitlin, what part of no don't you understand". It feels like dancing a familiar dance

...one two three one two three...

 And I easily remember the steps as I fall into a place that is cozy and full of memories. 


As long as I can remember, since I was a little girl, my Mema would always tuck me in with a kiss goodnight and say, "angels on your pillow", just before she would walk softly from the room. It became so familiar, so homey, that I almost forgot about it, zoned it out of my brain, like it was second nature. Almost, until today. 


My 93 year old Great Grandmother passed away today. She was an amazing, tough old lady, full of life through to the last second. In one of her surgeries over the past few days, the doctors came out and said she had the "bones of a 30 year old" and they were shocked at how well she was recovering. Yup...she was too stubborn to even let her body get old. 

My first memory of my dear, stubborn  Great Grandma is from when I was around 4-5 years old. My mother, grandma and I were driving to Pennsylvania to visit her and Muffy, her cute little white dog. As per my usual fashion, I tried to roll down the windows on the highway and when I was told "no", I decided a better option would be to open the door instead. One of my finer moments, I believe...


Later that night I snuggled in for bed in my Great Grandmas home, and as she was tucking me in and walking quietly from the room she whispered, "angels on your pillow"...and I knew where my grandma had borrowed the phrase. It is a piece of my family. Like a family heirloom, or an extra hug. An extra note in the symphony of my families story, the one that adds flavor and harmony. 


Yesterday, her daughter, my Mema wrote this...

"I don't know if Mom will understand, but please tell her I love her and give her a kiss for me.  I know that 'angles are on her pillow' and surrounding her.  She is in the Hands of Our Father and Her Father.  He will keep her with Him.  "

In these sweet and sorrowful moments that have come to pass, I am grateful for this family that God built. I am grateful for the chance to have a "favorite sweater" kind of feeling. To have something hidden in my family, even though it is simple and silly to any onlooker. But I have something to hold onto...I am a piece of a small puzzle, and we fit together a certain way. 

Great Grandma left a lot with us. Courage, bravery, happiness in simplicity, and the genetic stubbornness that winds through our family like a cord. She even had a hand in my blue eyes. But she also left us with a "cozy sweater", with traditions that belong to our family, and something for me to tell me children as they grow and drift into dreamland. A small piece of what makes my family mine...

So, dear great grandma, goodnight...sleep tight...sweet dreams...and angels on your pillow.