This is not the time for tears.  This is the time to celebrate the life of a woman who painted the town red, lit up every space with her smile, and made each person she spoke to feel as if they were the most important person in the room.  There are very few people in this world who can be picking snails off flowers in their garden one moment, and then throwing a chic cocktail party the next; toasting with Mint Juleps underneath the summer stars.  Her name was Estelle but she went by a nickname, Polly.  I never knew who they were talking about at her garden parties.  She drank whiskey, wore red lip stick, and had an unforgettable laugh (followed by a snort and, 'I love it! I love it!').  She drove like a bat out of hell, once into a jewelry store.

Maybe that is a good place to start when I tell you about my grandmother.  She had a yellow convertible.  Bright yellow.  When I was a kid, I would sit in the black leather and pretend I was driving fast along the coast--just like my grandmother in a fashionable hat and scarf.  I loved being her passenger.  She drove into a jewelry store in her little town by the river and managed to have new friends by the end of the collision and a brand new ring.  My own mother shook her head and whispered, "that's grandma for you."  She was larger than life.  She's been my world for the past 24 years.

Driving with my grandmother was always an experience.  Every one in my family has the turkish evil eye in their car; I was always mortified as my grandma would flash the "evil eye" to people who cut her off.  Oddly enough, I too have one in my car now and smile every time I see it (I have yet to flash it..but maybe in her honor I'll start).  She used to pick us up from the airport and I would itch in excitement, thinking about all the adventures we were about to have.   As a pint sized person, I spent my days writing stories, picking blackberries, sizzling snails with salt, making bouquets of flowers, stomping on apples in the orchard, digging for gold in the creek, climbing trees and playing dress up in the world's most fantastic closet.  My grandmother has wonderful stories of her travels.  She has been all over the world--she even went to the Amazon.  Her home was filled with special pieces from all over the world--she really did this life thing right.  After I graduated from U of A, my grandmother pulled out the first story I ever wrote, entitled "The Ugliest Girl In The Whole Entire World." This girl had green vomit breath and scraggly teeth.  It was seven pages long and typed on her old school typewriter.  She went to U of A and took pride in stating that she was the oldest living alumnae--she really wanted to go to homecoming.

My grandmother's estate was called Seven Gates.

As far as I've ever been concerned, the world could cease to exist beyond them.   Everything I needed was there.  My grandmother created the garden from nothing.  She had three rose gardens and endless nooks and crannies filled with exotic flowers.  I was Alice in Wonderland.  Nothing could hurt me behind those white gates.  As a little girl, I pictured myself getting married here.  She once told me (over a glass of bourbon when discussing law school and life), that if I was able--I should get married atleast twice.  She said that each marriage is like a life.  Experience as many different types of life as you can ( my mother still refutes her saying this..but it's delightfully true).  Equally entertaining was another late night when I inquired about her cheetah print bed sheets, she replied with her infamous smirk and a laugh, "Well, at my age you need some excitement in the bedroom."  When she was in Egypt, she rode a camel in a pencil skirt and heels.  She is fabulous.

You know when people tell you to close your eyes and picture yourself in your "happy place"? These memories of her and the garden are it.  Forever and always.

So as difficult as it is to think about waking up tomorrow to my new reality, I know that I must do it and do it with a smile.  My grandmother always told me two things:

1.Everyday is a good day depending on the way you look at it

and

2. "watch out for the other guy" when discussing driving...and life.

So despite this hurt in my heart--I'm going to celebrate the love she gave me to me and everyone she knew on the day she passed away.  Valentine's Day will always be my most favorite day...it's about telling the people you care about you love them.  What an incredible woman..what an incredible life..how lucky I am to have been loved by you.