Forgotten Memories

There is always someone in your life that plays an important role in who you are and who you become. Mine was my greatgrandmother. Etta May Bush. No, no relation to the man in the white house that I know of, if so we were the poor ones. She married young a American Indian woman married to a Irish immigrant worker. She had at least 5 children that I know of. Two of which were mentally handicapped. Her and her son Tom were a big part of my early years. Raised on a small farm in Florida they lived two houses down on the family property. My memories are of an aunt that use to call everyone "boys" and my uncle playing with us in the yard. He was old when I was young, he would chase us kids around the yard and catch us and rub his whiskered chin under the soft part of our necks til we squealed. I still remember those rashes. They both passed away long ago. My greatgrandmother died when my daughter Melissa was born. And Tom died a few years back from what I am told. My greatgrandmother was 101 when she died. State records have her as 104.
Well not too long after we arrived I was shocked to see an extremely elderly woman wandering the house of my sister in law Khadijah. I was told that she was her husbands mother. Her name is Aieysha and by family accounts she is 107. Not much is known of her past so I thought I would preserve what I can of her now. As I am given more information about her I will add to her story.
Family story has it she was found wandering alone in the city by members of the Faris family. She was very young and had no accounting of parents or family members. For all we know she could have been orphaned during WW2. The concentration camps set up by the Italians made many people orphans, widows and last remnants of family tribes. So she was taken in by the family. When I saw this petite woman barely standing 4'7" I was reminded of the one woman I held so dearly in my heart. So if she was around I was with her. At meal time I served her first, at naptime I got her blankets and pillows. Anything she wanted she just had to let known. This was one of the times when I wished my Arabic was better. Oh the stories she could have shared with me. I love history and I know she could have told me much. Maybe not as much as some people being a woman, her life was probably limited to the world around her home, but she would have told me about the life of the family. People born and died, marriages and lives that she had known. I wish more people would find a way to save these memories before they are gone. At 107 even if I wish I may not see her again so I requested my son to photograph her. Maybe there are other photos with family members of her younger years and if so I will try to get copies and add them. But for me her face is a cherished one. So full of the life she has lived. Worn like old leather and tattooed in the old ways, her front bangs colored orange with henna. She is beautiful.