Grandma and Patsy

Grandma Barton had a morning routine. She would get up and start the Mr. Coffee Maker (she set it all up the night before), then trundle down the long asphalt driveway to her mailbox to retrieve the newspaper. Next, Grandma would head into the kitchen, pour herself a cup of coffee and stir in one teaspoon each of powdered Irish Cream flavored creamer, powdered regular creamer, and white sugar. A short couple of steps to the cookie pail to pick up two chocolate chip/oatmeal/raisin cookies and then it was over to the recliner for breakfast and the newspaper.

Every Sunday, before she sat down to eat her cookies and drink her coffee, Grandma Barton would load up her phonograph with records. She would select four or five albums of whoever she felt like listening to that particular day, set them on the spindle, move the arm over on top of them, and turn the record player on. She must have had several hundred albums by such greats as the Mills Brothers, Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, and Willie Nelson. But her favorite was Patsy Cline.

Grandma loved to dance. Whenever a Patsy Cline song came on the radio and there was a willing dance partner in the house, Grandma would soon be swaying across the kitchen floor, singing along.

She used to ask me, "Why don't you learn to play some Patsy Cline?". I told her it just wasn't my style. This is one of my greatest regrets in life.

I never asked Grandma about it, but it seemed like all her favorite songs were about heartache, and nobody could sing lively heartache songs better than Patsy. I knew Grandma had her heart broken pretty bad when she was a young woman, maybe that was why those songs spoke to her. I have to chuckle as she used to complain that I never played any "happy" songs. Maybe she was hoping that I wouldn't have to go through life with a secret pain inside like she did.

My Grandma died at home, and all of us were there with her. The local funeral home director, who had taken care of many of our family members over the years, came to take her body. They put Grandma on the gurney and as they started to move toward the door, I shouted "Wait!" I went to the CD player and put on Patsy Cline. Our family made a line from the dining room into the kitchen and we watched Grandma leave her home one last time, with Patsy singing "I'll Be Loving You Always". It couldn't have been more fitting.

At Grandma's funeral, I finally sang her a Patsy Cline song. My sisters and I created a medley of a few of her favorite tunes, which included Crazy, Release Me, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, then back into Crazy. Sounds weird, but it works, try it. We led friends and family in celebrating her love of music. Had my sisters not stood up there with me, I don't think I could have gotten through those songs. I still choke up every time I sing Crazy.

I have had many conversations with Grandma since then, letting her know how sorry I am I didn't learn those songs when she was still alive. Sometimes when I go visit her grave, I put on a Patsy Cline CD and let it blast out over the cemetery. I swear I can see Grandma dancing and swaying across the grass, gently singing along.