I remember visiting my grandmother in the years before she passed, and she was always either quilting or crocheting. Invariably she was always looking for her scissors everywhere, and we always found them hiding under her butt. The morning she passed I asked my mom, "where are Mamaw's scissors?" I went to the funeral home and placed her thimble on her finger, where it always was even if she wasnt sewing, and her scissors right where she always lost them, under her butt. All the family had to ask the story of why the scissors were there, and the laughs we all got helped to make the passing of such an incredible woman just a little easier. Love you Mamaw, I miss you so.