Remember the old Betty Davis movie, Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte? Scared the pee-wad out of me. But I loved the theme song, “The red rose told you of his passion, the white rose his love so true.”
Red is full-blown, out-and-out passion. Red roses. Rubies. Fire. Red-headed women.
Red was Grandma’s favorite color. When Grandma and Grandpa built their house, Grandma painted it grey with bright red trim around the windows. Grandpa threw a fit. He said the red trim would look like crap. As usual, Grandma paid little attention to him and painted the trim the color she wanted. This was years ago but I still remember how sharp the house looked from the road. She planted blue morning glories that climbed and snaked around their flowerboxes on the porch. Grey, red, and blue. Awesome combination.
Grandma always knew what she was doing.
I was in grade school when Grandma crossed over. I remember her casket was covered with red carnations. I tried to pinch a bud but was too little to reach them. My oldest brother reached over and picked one for me. I kept the flower pressed between pages of a book for years. I’ll never forget that act of kindness my brother did for me that day. Somehow he knew how important it was for his “little Sis” to have a piece of her Grandma’s last wish.
One of Grandma’s closest friends was a woman named Kitty. Kitty had flaming red hair. Free-spirited and fun-loving, my brother and I loved to visit with Kitty. At Grandma’s funeral, Kitty wore black. But underneath her coal-black skirt, she wore a candy-apple red slip. She said it was for Grandma.
Somewhere I knew Grandma was smiling.