I got up, and in a zombie-like state, went through the motions of showering, drying and straightening my hair and placing it in a perfect bun at the nape of my neck. I then went through the, let's be honest, not so daily routine of applying make-up and covering up all of the imperfections. I then went to my closet and selected the only pair of dress slacks I own and a nice shirt to wear with them and laid them out on the bed. I stared at them scrutinizing their very being. Was this really happening? How did all of this time pass so quickly?
In thinking of this, I was suddenly back on her couch watching soap operas with her and taking in the scent of her freshly noxema'd face. She was sitting in her chair filing her nails and I was watching her every move. I was maybe 7 at the time and then and there I vowed to grow up to be as beautiful as she was.
She was flawless. I can't remember a time when she didn't have her lipstick on. Even if she was only walking around in her house coat and intricate slippers, her face and nails were always made up. Hair perfectly in place with bobby pins placed accordingly to hide any thinning that she didn't want anyone to notice.
I loved hearing stories of when her and my grandfather, Daddy Bo would go out dancing and to night clubs. They loved vacationing and going out for drinks. They were very popular indeed.
We called her Mama Dot because she didn't want the word "grandmother" to be associated with her. Not because she was resentful, but because she had this horrible fear of getting older and losing that beauty that everyone always complimented her on. To me, she was always beautiful and I never quite understood why she couldn't continue to see that as the years passed.
In all honesty, I always felt a little awkward around her. I was more so a tom-boy than a princess though I did enjoy dressing up and playing with dolls too. However, if you gave me the chance to climb a tree or play in the mud, I was right there in the middle of all of it, getting dirty and ragged and feeling anything but beautiful.....
One day, sitting on her couch and playing cards, she told me she had something for me. She got up and went to her bedroom to get it. I remember sitting there in anticipation. What could it be? I was so excited!! She came back and placed something small and shiny in my tiny hand. I looked at it and there before me was the most beautiful bracelet I had ever seen. I had no words. I just looked at her in awe. She then proceeded to tell me that it was a tennis bracelet and all the little shiny jewels in it were diamonds. She gave me a chance at beauty that day.
So as I was still staring at my clothes, I suddenly remembered that I still have that bracelet. And in that moment, finding it and placing it on my wrist was the most important task of that morning. I ran to my jewelry box which contains mostly old hair-ties and costume jewelry from Halloween party's that have come and gone. I opened one of the little drawers and there it was. Still so shiny. Still so beautiful. The perfect symbol of how I always viewed her.
Suddenly, I had all the confidence I needed to put on the clothes I had selected. I slipped on my little, black ballet flats (yet another tribute to her) and applied just a little more lipstick that i had found shoved somewhere in the bottom of a drawer. I looked in the mirror....and sighed.
When we got to the grave site later on that day. It hadn't completely hit me until I saw her coffin. It was blue, her favorite color. Not just any blue. It was what I would call "Mama Dot Blue". It was perfect and I began to cry.
Everything else is kind of a blur, but I remember hearing several people talking and feeling as though they were staring at me throughout the service. Later I found out why.
It appears that everyone knew upon seeing me get out of the car, that I was her granddaughter. Later on that day, several people came up to give me a hug and exclaim, "you look so much like her. She was so beautiful. Like a movie star."
These words, more than any other that was said to me that day, helped more than I could have ever thought. I'm not being vain. It just meant so much to hear people say how much I looked like her when all I ever wanted as a little girl was to be and look just like my Mama Dot.
We get older with each day. Some of us don't even notice. Mama Dot was a woman who did notice, but in my opinion, took it with grace . I don't think she ever fully knew how truly beautiful she was, both inside and out. She never gave herself enough credit and I wish, more than anything, that I could tell her now how she always inspired me. It is my hope that she knew this.
When the long day was over, I happened to glance down at my wrist that held the bracelet that she had given me so many years ago. Somehow it seemed even shinier. Perhaps it was just the way the light from the street lights outside were shining on it through the car window. But I can't help but wonder if this was her way of telling me she did know how I felt.
I looked up at the sky that night and instead of seeing the one lonely brightest star up in the sky, I saw two equally bright stars shining down on us. Daddy Bo had died almost 10 years before and I know he had been waiting patiently for the day when they would be together again. So I will leave the two of you with this simple statement:
Dance Mama Dot and Daddy Bo. Dance your hearts out and thrive in being young again. Most importantly, know that we all love and miss you so much.
Until we meet again....dance.
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