My heart is permanently connected to 758 Montclair Road, Fayetteville, NC. I have been back several times in recent decades to drive by the house and the cemetery. Good heavens, I can still feel how the memories came to life as I drove those roads, circled the blocks and walked by gravesites.

What I remember most was the overall feeling of hope and pure joy to spend the summers with our grandparents. After seven years in Germany, our parents would drop us off at Mamaw & Papaw’s house in May and pick us up in early August. Mamaw taught us how to cook, clean, pick vegetables and fruits from the garden and more. Green beans, blackberries, peaches, apples, cucumbers and tomatoes will never be as good as they were in that garden! Fried apple pies will never come close to their magic at 758 Montclair.

The back patio is still crystal clear in my memory. Exiting the den, you stepped down to the patio. On the right was a full-size glider couch. It was kelly green, steel like with a waffle weave type finish. This was my favorite place on the patio. I took many of my favorite lunches ever on the patio. Never a meal more divine than a bologna on white bread sandwich with grape nehi soda, provided it was served on the patio. We would play games like “Lemon Twist” and play outside or with Mike Smith next door. Actually, we had “Aunt Krysta” on the left and Rubye & Mike Smith on the other side of my grandparents’ home.

We watched Andy Griffith, I Love Lucy and The Monkees. We laughed, went to play Bingo and usually spent a week or more at White Lake. I loved our summers with our grandparents.

When we moved to Tennessee in August 1980, we lived at 415 Kimberly Drive. It’s strange, really. Many years have passed since I lived there. However, typing the address brings the house into clear focus. I am outside on the deck, just outside of the sunroom. I can see my mom falling to her knees. All I can hear is her guttural scream upon learning her mom had passed while she was driving home. Daddy met her in the driveway to share the news.

What transpired a few weeks earlier was Easter at the house. What my parents did not know was that my mamaw conveyed her impending death to me. She did not tell me she was dying from cancer or that she would be gone. Still, she conveyed it to me without any words. We left the family room without speaking a word, went to my bedroom and held hands over the floor while we each sat on the twin beds. Somehow, without recalling the words spoken, the feeling washes over me again and again. My mamaw did not believe she would ever be returning to Tennessee, that is for certain.

After the visit at Easter, my mom traveled back to Fayetteville, NC, with Mamaw and Papaw. Mamaw had surgery and was in the hospital most of the time. After nearly two weeks away from us, mamaw told mom it was time to get back home. It was long before cell phones. Mom didn’t find out her mom died until arriving home after eleven hours of driving. Although it’s been nearly 43 years ago, I still choose to not celebrate Mother’s Day when it falls on May 8.

Nearly 17 years after she died, I experienced my mamaw’s presence at my wedding to the father of my children. There are photos of my papaw and I dancing and smiling as we danced. The last string of photos is both of us in complete tears. I looked at my sweet papaw and before I could say a word, he said, “I know, honey. I felt her, too!”.

Thank you, Lord, for bringing my Papaw and I the most precious comfort of what felt like our Ruby Lee Cloer in the room. What an awe- inspiring wedding gift!