“Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you. Embrace me, you irreplaceable you. Just one look at you my heart grew tipsy in me. You and you alone bring out the gypsy in me. I love all the many charms about you; above all, I want my arms about you. Don’t be a naughty baby,
Come to papa-come to papa – do! My sweet embraceable you..”
When I was a little girl my grandmother would lie in bed with my sister and me, one on each side of her, and we would sing every old time song my grandmother could think of. I don’t even remember learning them, I just remember knowing every word, and reminding her that we had missed a song or two (prolonging this time with her as long as I possibly could—the time I cherished most in the world).
My grandmother passed away a few years ago. At first I missed her every day, and then slowly the sadness would come a little less often. However some days, like today, I miss her as though it was just yesterday her spirit took to flight.
A few weeks ago I had a dream about my grandmother. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew she was there, the way I always did. I was trying to find a way to let her in, but she didn’t seem concerned with finding a door. She telephoned me with one simple message, that she saw a baby boy around me. And with that, she was gone.
In my waking place I wanted to hold on to this dream, wanted to believe it was a direct message from her not to give up, that she could see what I cannot. Perhaps it is, and perhaps it is not.
Today I just miss her. I miss the way nothing in this life seemed to weigh her down. I know that if she were here, she would take me for Thai food, listen to me so perfectly that I would find my own answers without realizing it, and then she would just sit with me. Sit quietly dropping her hand softly down on my arm, sweeping it up, then dropping it again, in the same soothing way she did my whole life through.
Today, I simply wish she were here to embrace me.