So creative to see yourself as a "scrap". I would not have thought of that if asked to write about scraps in my life.
Your handwriting is amazing. Did you write that piece with your right hand?
I love the story about your grandmother. She sounds like quite a woman! You inherited her spunk! so grear that she visited you and also great that she danced before she left her body and moved on! Wow.
I apologize for taking so long to respond. We’ve been dealing with illness for both of us and it’s been challenging. This “Scrap” is very grateful you took the time to respond, Kat.
I did write that piece with my right hand, my “dominant” hand. It’s been shown handwriting interacts with our brains in very positive ways, so I wanted to do it even if it turned out less than perfect. Since I wrote that I’ve invested in a few “fat” pens which are easier to grip with my right hand.
Grandma H was my favorite and my birth name, Jean-Anne, contains her first name, Anna. The Jean was for my Father Gene. She cam to California for a visit when I was around 10 and , after seeing my Father’s treatment of me, wante to take me back to South Dakota to live with her; my parents declined.
About those dancing lights… I truly believe your grandmother was visiting you. I can’t imagine how we would manage losing so many of our loved ones to death if we weren’t sure they would still communicate with us in some way. My grandmother, who was my live in nanny, had a distinct smell about her… not as bad as you might think, a mixture of snuff and sweat from southern humidity. I knew it immediately one day when I opened the closet door in my baby’s room one day. She’d come to visit and left me with the warmest of feelings.
I agree. These afterlife “visits” are so special. My eldest son passed on December 16, 2011, and he sends me white feathers, especially when I’m upset or on a Zoom with friends. They see them as well. My Grandmother and I were very close. My birth name contained her first name, Jean-Anne (Anna) and I was born on her Birthday. She lived in South Dakota, and I in California. When I was a youn girl, she visited us, and seeing my Father’s drunkenness, she asked my parents if I could come live with her, but they refused. I always felt so close to her; I was devastated. We are very lucky to have these reminders.
I like your "scraps" stories...
So creative to see yourself as a "scrap". I would not have thought of that if asked to write about scraps in my life.
Your handwriting is amazing. Did you write that piece with your right hand?
I love the story about your grandmother. She sounds like quite a woman! You inherited her spunk! so grear that she visited you and also great that she danced before she left her body and moved on! Wow.
Love,
Kat
I apologize for taking so long to respond. We’ve been dealing with illness for both of us and it’s been challenging. This “Scrap” is very grateful you took the time to respond, Kat.
I did write that piece with my right hand, my “dominant” hand. It’s been shown handwriting interacts with our brains in very positive ways, so I wanted to do it even if it turned out less than perfect. Since I wrote that I’ve invested in a few “fat” pens which are easier to grip with my right hand.
Grandma H was my favorite and my birth name, Jean-Anne, contains her first name, Anna. The Jean was for my Father Gene. She cam to California for a visit when I was around 10 and , after seeing my Father’s treatment of me, wante to take me back to South Dakota to live with her; my parents declined.
About those dancing lights… I truly believe your grandmother was visiting you. I can’t imagine how we would manage losing so many of our loved ones to death if we weren’t sure they would still communicate with us in some way. My grandmother, who was my live in nanny, had a distinct smell about her… not as bad as you might think, a mixture of snuff and sweat from southern humidity. I knew it immediately one day when I opened the closet door in my baby’s room one day. She’d come to visit and left me with the warmest of feelings.
I agree. These afterlife “visits” are so special. My eldest son passed on December 16, 2011, and he sends me white feathers, especially when I’m upset or on a Zoom with friends. They see them as well. My Grandmother and I were very close. My birth name contained her first name, Jean-Anne (Anna) and I was born on her Birthday. She lived in South Dakota, and I in California. When I was a youn girl, she visited us, and seeing my Father’s drunkenness, she asked my parents if I could come live with her, but they refused. I always felt so close to her; I was devastated. We are very lucky to have these reminders.