Yesterday, my Grandma Eula Mae would have been 93 years old. My most vivid image of her is one of her lying across her bed with a notebook, pen, a Bible and a continuously in progress game of solitaire.

That image is, in a nutshell, the essence of who she was. Always writing, always singing, and always playing a game. There is no denying that she is now and always has been with me; casting a light to help with my journey through the darkest caves.

…and she was a Scorpio through and through.

She was the quiet power in the room…the whispering current of balance and justice that flowed through any space that was hers. I never saw her loose her temper but I saw the way she commanded respect.

Some of that had to do with her letters. She was always writing. Watching her hand and pen slide across the paper was mesmerizing to me. It looked like smooth intention; every letter fit perfectly and set right on the page…every word pointed in a way to cause maximum impact.

I never received one of her letters firsthand but hear tell of it, she knew how to tell you off with the sweetest words you’ve ever heard. She had a particular knack for politely making you feel like the smallest thing in the world.

I wish I had stolen some of her writings away and kept them close to my heart, but I did not. In that way, a part of her list lost to me.

…and then there was her song…

She would sing anywhere and randomly. In the car, around the kitchen table and at church (of course). It was like she was grounding herself in song; using it to connect her womb with the womb of the earth.

She had her own unique sound. It was that Old Timey Appalachian mountain singing. Folk songs, songs about that “Old Time Religion”, and songs about the pains of marriage

[Check out a version of my personal favorite: “I Wish I Were Single Again”]

Oh, how I wish I could hear her sing, now.

So on this day…the day after her birthday we honor her spirit by telling her stories. May we honor her always by singing her soul’s song.