All good things...

as they say, must come to an end.

I was lucky enough to call Erma Spencer Hoops my Grandmother.

To many, she was a friend...a mentor...a teacher...or perhaps a stubborn thorn in a few sides, arguing that every child deserves a warm meal, a good pair of shoes and a solid education. She was a champion for literacy and a warrior for possibility. Her creativity and verbal acuity were unmatched.

Cindy and I spent a great deal of time with Grandma when we were children; not because we had to, but because we wanted to. She wasn't the rosy cheeked, apron-clad grandma that some kids had. As a child of the depression, her love was not spoken, but shown. She corrected my grammar at least weekly through middle school, but when I got it right, her nod of approval was the reward. We weren't sitting in her lap eating freshly baked cookies and watching movies. We were learning, listening, stretching our minds and creating.

When a family member dies, it's easy to get caught up in the personal effects that the deceased has left behind. I would argue that the more important thing is what's been left within us. I sat down to draw with Ella today in my art room, and Grandma's influence could not have been more obvious if she'd been sitting across from us at the table. I scanned the room and reflected upon the many stacks of paper and inkpots and shiny stickers and paper doilies. Markers and alphabet practice sheets. Scissors and paintbrushes and pipe cleaners. The scent of rubber cement. It finally occurred to me: I had recreated her magical closet that contained all of these things during my childhood. It had been my wonderland.

Along with these things in her home came a lesson:
ANY reality is on the paper in front of you. All you need to do is imagine it, and it's yours to behold.

And that, my friends, is the lesson she left me. At times, it has paid my bills and at times it has set me free.

Tonight before I fall asleep, I will give thanks one more time for the gifts she bestowed upon all of us. Her inspiration is with me through every day of my design career, and will shine through my babes as they practice cursive and cut out paper hearts for their Mimi.