My grandmother passed away this week at the accomplished age of 91. We have known for a while that this day was nearing, but I still find it hard to accept that the world could go on without her. She has been a big part of my life for so long.
I remember telling all of my friends at an early age that my grandma was the coolest, because she wore a jean jacket. I mean, whose grandma wears a jeans jacket? Mine did. Her name was Jean, so really it just made sense. Some children’s literature could lead you to believe that grandmothers are frumpy and grouchy and funny smelling, but my grandma was none of those things. She was active and fun and beautiful, and always, always kind.
My childhood memories of her often dwell on summers at my grandparents’ house. Playing pick-up sticks in the sun room on a warm day. Watching squirrels fly across the wires over their back yard. Playing hide and seek in the big stand of evergreens. If I pause for a moment, I can still hear the creaking of the curving steps that led to their attic. I can feel the warm, sticky heat and inhale the faintly musty attic air. (It was only a few years ago that I learned that the musty odor belonged to mothballs. I have always known that scent as “Grandpa and Grandma’s attic.” The scent of mothballs will always make me feel happy and comforted and loved.) I can see the rows of trunks, filled with wonderful treasures that were ours to play with. One of those trunks lives in my storage area now. My children think it’s a pirate chest. I don’t deprive them of this magic.
When I was ten years old, I had the opportunity to stay with my grandparents for a week- just me! For a middle child, this was a dream come true. They gave me freedoms that only grandparents could allow.
They let me stay up as late as I wanted, every night! This was an amazing treat. It probably only took one night of sitting alone in a quiet house after my grandparents went to bed to discover that there was nothing special in going to bed late. This is when I learned that, at age 10, there really is nothing to do after 8:30 anyway.
They let me eat my favorite food, hot dogs, for lunch every day. This is when I learned that there is such a thing as enough hot dogs.
My grandma took me to the station where she served as an EMT. We brought cookies that we had baked for the public servants who worked there. She took me to her morning exercise class, one of the few times in life that I got out of bed at 6:00am voluntarily. Everywhere we went, she introduced me so proudly. But what I most remember is how she introduced others. I don’t remember all of the many people that Grandma introduced to me in her lifetime, but I do remember how she introduced each one with a sincere statement of appreciation for how that person made her life better. This is when I learned what a beautiful thing it is to truly value others.
I know that in her later years, as her body started to wear down, Grandma struggled with feeling that she was no longer useful to others. The truth is that she made a difference in all of our lives, right up until the end. When Sophie was 2-1/2 and Ben was 8 months old, I got it in my head that I was going to sew an elephant costume for Sophie for Halloween. (Keep in mind that I don’t sew. And that elephants are complicated. They have trunks.) Grandma was out for a visit in early October of that year. She wasn’t doing very much sewing of her own anymore. But she sat at the kitchen table with me for the better part of a day. She taught me how to read a pattern, and guided me through sewing the first pieces together. Her lessons allowed me to finish the costume after she flew home, and it turned out even better than I could have imagined! Since then I have produced bear, puppy, and Snow White costumes, in addition to many mending projects.
Even as it became harder for her to write, Grandma continued to send personal handwritten notes to each of us for every occasion. She never failed to tell me how proud she was of me, how much she thinks of what I am doing. When you leave the working world to stay home with your kids, there aren’t many opportunities to receive recognition. This validation from the grandmother I admire so much, who raised five amazing kids of her own as well as contributing to the world in many other ways, meant more to me than she could have known.
In addition to encouraging me, Grandma delighted in loving my kids and telling them how proud she was of them, too. In her last weeks, she spent less and less time awake and engaged. My kids would often ask how she was doing, and at one point they sent her a book that they wrote and illustrated. They included a dedication page, which said “This is to my Great-Grandma. Written with care from Sophia and Illustrated very carefully by Benjamin.” My Aunt Kathy and Uncle Alan, her constant companions, read it to her, and reported that she said “Wonderful!” several times. Even this simple word relayed to them was enough to make my kids feel so special and important.
I can’t tell you how much I will miss my grandma. To me she was a brightly shining light, and the world seems darker without her. My comfort is in seeing the best parts of her live on through her children (my fantastic parents and aunts and uncles) as well as many others that she touched. I hope that some of her lives on in me too, and that I will be able to share some of her gifts with my own children. And on days when I feel dim I can look at the notes she wrote me, and grow a little brighter again.
