Saying Goodbye

Specific sounds and smells have the kind of sensory power to transcend time and space.  When I hear the sound of the Bosch mixer and the smell of the warm oven, it is as though I am a young girl living at home with my parents all over again.  Every Saturday morning, and many days in between, my mom was in the kitchen mixing and making something.  Most often it was cinnamon rolls, which she took neighbors, friends, and ward members anytime a baby was born, or a loved one was lost, or any occasion which deserved celebration or compassion.  I've eaten way more homemade bread in my lifetime that I've eaten bread bought at a store.  One day after we had been married for a few years, Jeff asked me why I didn't bake.  I answered simply, "Because I don't have a Bosch."  How did he expect me to make anything without one?  I wasn't trying to sound spoiled, I simply didn't know how.  We always had one growing up.  We used it for everything. 

When we make the trip home to spend time with my parents, it is not a rare occasion for the Bosch to make it's appearance.  My kids love cooking with Grandma.  On this trip, they were making Mackendocker's Cake for my great-grandma's funeral.
This picture was taken in May of 2010 at Grandma Adams' birthday party.  It is of me, holding my son Isaac when he was 1, my mom, her mom (Grandma Holyoak) and Grandma Holyoak's mother-in-law, Lova Adams, my great-grandma.  My mom's dad died when he was only 36 years old, on my mom's 14th birthday.  I never knew him, but I knew his mom, Grandma Adams.  She lived in Washington my whole life.  We would stop and visit on shopping trips to St. George.  There were pecan trees in the yard to the side of her house.  Grandpa would shake the pecans from the tree with a big pole.  We would gather them up and then Grandma would shell them.  She had a big birthday calendar on her wall with all of the birthdays of all of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  Many of the names I knew, but some were cousins that were too distant for me to recognize.  Grandma Adams died last week at the age of 96. 

 The kids and I went down for the funeral.  We stopped at Chick-Fil-A in St. George for lunch with Grandpa and Grandma Jones, and Chelsea and Jamie before the viewing began.

 And we all got special Chick-Fil-A hats.

 This is my family!  I am so lucky!

 Saying goodbye to my grandma was not a sad thing for me.  I have all happy memories of her, and she lived a very long, very good life.  Like anyone that has been on earth for 96 years, she went through some very hard things in her life.  I feel proud of the legacy she has left for me, one of strength, hard work, determination, frugality, and humility.

 As soon as the funeral was over we were off to the mountain.  The kids couldn't wait to get there.

Grandma always has fun projects to do while we are at the mountain, things the kids don't get to do when we are at home.

The mountain really is a kid's dream come true.  You get to be dirty and play with stick, dirt, and rocks.  You get to go on adventures and be outside all the time.  You get to have a fire!  You get to be noisy (unless Grandpa tells you to use your 'primary voice' because it is the opening day of the deer hunt...right.)  You get to eat junk food.  And you get to be with Grandpa and Grandpa.  What more could a kid want?

 My parents love this place.  They spend every weekend all summer long here.  This was the last trip of the season. The leaves have already fallen and the snow will not be far behind.  We won't go back to the mountain until next May.  Saying goodbye to the mountain feels lonely and sad for them.

 We spent our time loading up camp and packing up for the winter.  We had a great time.  We look forward to making lots more memories at the mountain.