Strawberry Kiwi Lemonade

"Have you ever had strawberry kiwi lemonade?" she asked?

I shook my head. "No."

"Oh here sweetie, you have to try some. It's my favorite!"

She got out a fresh glass, opened the mini fridge, and poured it full to the top. Because grandmas don't go halfway when they give you a treat. The glass fogged right away — the juice was perfectly chilled.

We were at a community event Grandma had helped organize at her church, where she worked as the minister of evangelism. All morning long I had been following in her wake, watching her hot pink scarf flap in the breeze as she sailed around setting up.

From stopping to talk with Cookie (who knows what her actual name was — they all called her that) to testing the dunk tank outside, we had finally exhausted her to-do list. And with people showing up in just a few hours, we slipped into the tiny break room to enjoy standing still for a moment. 

That's when I learned about the magical drink, strawberry kiwi lemonade. The minute I took a sip, I knew I was hooked.

"What do you think?" she asked and chuckled. 

I looked back at her with a big smile, both hands holding the glass.

It was the smallest of moments. One she'd probably forget once I packed my bag and left after the weekend with her and Grandpa. But even many years later, that one lasts and hasn't been squeezed out by all the other memories that have come with time.

A few years later, I'd never have the chance to say goodbye to her. 

One day we were having my mom's 40th birthday party and I was playing with friends, too busy to stop and bid her farewell with our signature hug. (That soft and giant hug where I smelled perfume, hairspray, and tenderness all folded up in one long embrace.)

The next day she was dead from a heart attack, her car smashed just 15 minutes up the road from us.

As a child, I didn't know how to process the loss of someone so key in my life. As an adult, I still don't. There was never any chance for closure. No peaceful moment for us to quietly sit together and admire the life she lived, and celebrate the life into which she was going.

But one gift she left me was the chance to remember her every time I take a sip of strawberry kiwi lemonade. (In fact, it makes me look at Jesus telling his disciples to drink and remember him in a whole new way.)

It's not often on my grocery list, but I still love indulging in it as a treat from time to time. However admittedly as I got older, those occasions became less as I got engulfed in daily life.

Just the other week, my husband brought home containers that had been used to make regular lemonade. We opened the lids, sniffed the insides, and giggled at their sweet, citrus smell. I offhandedly told Sheldon that I never liked soda, I liked lemonade, and that my favorite kind was strawberry kiwi lemonade. Although I didn't tell him the reason why.

About a day later Sheldon came home with a smile and quietly sat a half gallon on the counter. So I got out a glass, poured it to the top, and looked up giving her a silent cheers.

It's amazing in a world that can so quickly empty us, the power and the memories we form from one who can fill our cup.