Cinnamon Raisin & Lemon Scents
Loss happens. It is always guaranteed. It is a given that we will all return to dirt someday, but loss is not always signified by the end of life. Sometimes loss occurs earlier through a falling out, growing up, growing apart or losing touch. Although the relationship isn’t the same as it always was, the memories still hold a tremendous amount of love and laughter and those reflective moments are met with smiles, rather than pain.
Growing up, my grandma Tainter was always around. Any time we had the day off of school, she would spend it with us. We’d start the morning with cinnamon raisin bread for breakfast, pack sack lunches and play for hours at McNair park. Of course, my brothers and I had no clue the name, just knew it by the fun park with the red slides. We’d take long walks by the Missouri River, where she would lecture us not to get too close to the water, telling old stories of kids that had drowned. We’d sit in parking lots and watch the sky for incoming planes to see them land. She never left the house without lemon scented lysol wipes, ensuring us kids used them before and after every meal and, more importantly, before we got into her car. Every Christmas season, we’d visit Main Street and navigate the cobblestone, collecting cards from every Christmas character, only taking breaks for hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts. Her favorite spot to take us for food was Talayna’s, where we’d enjoy their house salad and what my grandpa called “soft but crunchy croutons”.
As my brothers and I grew up, our relationship changed from those frequent visits. My parents divorced when I was 7 and we gradually saw my grandparents less and less. Like birds, they’d fly South for the winter, shortly after celebrating Christmas with us. Sometime in June they would meet us for dinner at Talayna’s and give us belated birthday presents. We eventually graduated to visiting them once a year on Christmas Eve at Grandma’s brother's Christmas party, but COVID ended that tradition. I last saw Grandma at Talayna’s in 2022, where her Alzheimers and Parkinson’s advanced far enough that Grandpa opted to take her food to go so he could help her eat in the comfort of their home.
My brother called me today to say Grandma had passed away. As the grief of the loss set in, I remembered the days of red slides, Christmas cards and crunchy croutons. While these are memories I will hold onto, I know the impact my grandma had on me will last through my lifetime.
Every Christmas morning, my mom makes her fruit pizza recipe.
I still eat cinnamon raisin bread for breakfast.
I still use her old tennis racket she gave me.
I am still scared of drowning in the Missouri River.
I keep lemon scented soap in my kitchen.
My grandma’s habits are reflected in me. I have experienced her loss twice over now, but because of these moments and memories she gave me, I had so many wonderful traits to gain.
