I would sit for hours in her living room looking through all the photo albums that lined the bottom bookshelves. Photos of my families history, or people I never met except through her stories and cherished photo albums. I learned early on that photos were a snapshot of time, a precious unchanging memory that lasted long after a feeble human life had gone. I watched her at every moment in our lives that held any importance, take image after image with her little Kodak 110 film camera. While that may not seem like a big deal to some, it was. You see my Memaw had pins in both shoulders, she couldn’t raise her arms fully, didn’t have full range of motion in her shoulders. She had to sit down and bend over her dresser to fix her hair. So when Memaw took a photo, when she pushed her shoulders and elbows up as much as she could, to capture that image, it was worth more than gold. She wanted us to never forget. So with discomfort in body, but love in heart, she documented, collected, and held onto the memories and moments that made up the lives of those she loved so.

I always knew I would leave my hometown. I knew at a very young age it was not the place for me, and the hardest part was knowing I would be leaving her behind when I left. I spent the last 2 years of my high school days getting up extra early, going across the road, and sitting with her before I had to leave for school. I would ask her to tell me about her life, and she would tell me it wasn’t anything special. She was wrong, because to me, every story was special, memorable, valuable, because to me, she was worth more than I could express in youthful words or struggling heart.

There’s always one person in each of our lives, the one who you are just connected to, the one you just feel, even miles away. The one who knows you, who loves you so deeply, so fully, that they create a strength in you that you would have never had otherwise. She was my one, my rock, my “Jesus with skin on.” She was perfect to me, flawed human perfection. Yes, we had a few fights, we butted heads, but I never once doubted her love and support.

She told me I had an old soul. I told her she was absolutely beautiful. In the silence or in the sound of voices, we were family and she was my friend. My very first best friend, my oldest dearest friend. There is never a day she is not in my heart, my mind. Not a second that her example doesn’t influence how I choose to live or be. I hope I can make her proud. She got sick before I truly found myself and became Suzy G. I think she would have smiled with pride if she could have understood that I am spending my life making sure others will always remember their moments. I also think she would probably laugh at all my camera gear and say I didn’t need all that. It’s heart that makes the photo, she would say, not the camera.

In my home there are two 3inch binders full of the letters she wrote me over the years after I left home. There are 17 photo albums, 9 scrapbooks, and over 10,000 printed images of my life, my children’s lives, my friends lives, and my family. Some taken by her, many taken by me, a few taken by my oldest who seems to have taken up the torch for his generation in our family. Keepsakes, memories, cherished things that may never mean anything to anyone else, but they mean so very much to me. They are my memories, and I am one of many who have become a memory keeper. The collector of memories, the capture-ure of moments, and it all began because of a little woman who always made sure I never forgot.

Verda Lorean Breithaupt, said goodby to this world today. She was the perfect example of a grandmother. She was older and bent, her gray hair turning more pure white than gray, she fit under my arm. Her hands where gnarled and her shoulders slumped with age. Her smile was as bright as the sun and her whistle could always make you smile. This is the memory I will keep in my heart, of the lady who showed me how to be a lady, how to be a friend, how to forgive the unforgivable, how to pray for those who hurt you, how to sacrifice for those you love, how to give your heart because it was better that you share it with others than hoard it for yourself. The lady who taught me what true faithfulness is even when the one your faithful to doesn’t understand the gift your giving and betrays you. I watched her turn the other cheek, heard her cry out the name of those who wounded her heart in prayer asking God to protect them and bless them. She was the greatest example of truth I was blessed to see, and it will never slip by unnoticed that I was so blessed she loved me, that I was chosen to be a part of her family. It was and always will be one of the greatest honors of my lifetime.

Today I played back memories in my mind and looked at photographs that were already permanently etched in my heart. Tomorrow we as a family will seek to say our goodbys to one of the true cornerstones in our lives. I will be finding a way to say goodby to my hero, my friend, and the reason I am who I am. The reason I never once gave up, or thought I would fail. How I so wish she could have known or understood where my life has come, but I believe she knows now. Even in the pain and tears, I know her pain is gone and peace is hers at last.

I will probably find myself rereading all her letters in the near future, or re-reading the collection of Grace Livingston Hill books she left me, even though we read them so many times already, many are only held together with tape. I’ll probably cook some of her recipes and write down more of the stories she told me as they filter through my mind and heart. I’ll grieve in my way, and I’ll smile at the memories I have. Above all I will be thankful for all the years I ran up those wooden steps and burst through her door with out knocking to find her sitting in her rocking chair with her favorite white coffee cup drinking her coffee and reading the bible. I’ll just be thankful for her and if in just a small way in my life, I leave an impression on others, the way she left one on me, I think I will forever honor her by giving some one else the gift of love, support, and hope enough to chase their dreams, to give their heart for the memory of others, to be a memory keeper, and to always be proud of that.

Goodby Memaw. You will never be forgotten and your love will always live on through me and touch all those I may come to meet. Thank you for your precious gift, for all your prayers, and for never ever being anyone other than you. With all my love, I will always miss you, but because of your love, I think I’ll be ok. Letting you go won’t be easy, but easy was never the way you played it. I’ll try my best to not let you down. XOXOXO