For Grams

It seems ridiculous to say that my 96 year old grandma died unexpectedly, but really and truly, I wasn’t expecting it. I thought there would be a decline of some sort, a phone call saying she was transferred to hospice and that we should come as soon as possible. But if you’re lucky, like Grams, there is sometimes a quiet ushering out of this world that no one sees coming. One minute Grams was brushing her teeth and apparently the next minute, she wasn’t. Just like that.

I don’t know anyone that had more angels watching over them then my Grams. She lived alone in her later years and one day she locked herself in the bathroom. She was there for 3 hours, praying for help when help arrived in the form of the missionaries, who had unexpectedly stopped by and then unexpectedly rescued Grams from the bathroom dungeon. She fell twice in recent years and both times it was when family was around and miraculously neither fall left her with serious injuries. The second fall was particularly harrowing as she fell face forward in her home, breaking her nose and busting her head open. She was bleeding profusely. My cousin, her grandson, was driving across the country and was staying with Grams for less than 48 hours. Mercifully this fall occurred within those 48 hours. She later recounted that she couldn’t have gotten up by herself (“I couldn’t move a muscle!”) and wasn’t wearing her necklace with the call button. Had her grandson not been there, it was agreed by all that she would have bled out and died. She was in her 90’s when this happened and the photo my uncle sent me shows my Grams with two black eyes, blood streaming down her face and a smile. A smile. Only Grams.

So maybe it’s not such a surprise she passed so easily and peacefully from this life to the next. She prayed for it, she hoped for it, and angle that she was, her wish was granted.

My grandma, or Grams as I had taken to calling her the past decade or so, was a very content person. She was always cheerful and easy to laugh. In fact she chuckled habitually in the same way some people might have a tendency to clear their throat or lick their lips. She wasn’t particularly cuddly or affectionate, but she was warm and easy to be around. And that’s all she wanted really–to be around you. To talk to you and ask you about yourself and your life.

We traveled to Nebraska this past weekend for her funeral. (Also, is it a rule that all treks to the great plains must feel like an arduous sojourn akin to our pioneer ancestors?)We laughed, we cried, we celebrated. From my family’s talks at her funeral I learned things about my grandma I didn’t know. She traveled frequently and by herself from California to New York, visiting friends and taking various jobs–something not commonly done by single women in the 1940’s. She was in LA on V-day in August of 1945 celebrating in the streets when the war ended. And once in New York City she visited a friend who lived in Gramercy Park who gave her the key to the park to explore by herself. Grams late sister commented, “I’ve lived in New York most of my life and I’ve never been to Gramercy Park!” And apparently Grams had quite the cache of boyfriends before she met my grandpa. I saw new-to-me photos this weekend of my Grams with some rather dapper looking gentlemen. For whatever reason, none of them stuck. Eventually she moved to Washington state where she met my grandpa. They married shortly after, did a stint in Alaska (she didn’t like the dark) and eventually settled in the quiet state of Nebraska which voted dead last in 2017 in a survey of states people most wanted to visit, but is a place that will always be near and dear to my heart.

Grams oldest son shared remarks about the health problems he had a child. I had known my uncle had health issues, but I didn’t know the extent–they were much more serious than I thought. He was born in 1950 (or ’49?) and Grams wrote letters, contact doctors and chased down answers until he was finally admitted to a medical trial at UCLA in 1965. The medication they gave him, and that he has been on his whole life, saved his life. I had NO IDEA. I sat there listening to my Uncle’s remarks and thought, “Holy bananas. Grams was the OG warrior mama in this family.” 

Below are the remarks I gave at her funeral. I kept them short and sweet, but believe me when I say I want to write a pages-long tribute to the small but mighty woman she was. Thanks for reading and indulging me as I come to terms with her passing. XO

*****

Grams liked to tell a lot of the same stories over and over again. You might think this was due to old age, but it is in fact a family trait. We all tell the same stories, all the time. Ad naseum. In high school my friends took to raising their hands when they had heard my story before. (Perhaps you’re raising your hand right now.) There is one story my grandma always like to tell me and usually told me this story every time we talked on the phone the past few years. This is the story:

My grandma had a favorite story she liked to tell about me. In fact, the last couple of years I don’t think I ever talked to her on the phone or in person without her recalling this story. The story is this: When I was a little kid I had gotten in trouble for something and sent up to my room. When I was finally allowed back down stairs someone asked me, “are you ready to come back down?” And with a scowl on my face, just to prove how unjust this punishment had been, I said, ahem…prepare yourself… this is easily the most famous thing I have ever said in my family, I said, “Well I didn’t come back down to screw up again!”My grandma LOVED telling me this story.

One of our last times together I reminded grandma a different story about her and I. As many of you know my brother and I, and our mom, lived with our grandparents for about 5 years when we were growing up—the golden years of my childhood as I refer to that period of my life. When I was young I didn’t think my grandma was much fun. My grandpa—now HE was the fun one! Always joking around and taking us on outings. But grandma—no fun at all. She was always cooking, and cleaning and doing the dishes. SO BORING. For some reason I thought it was OK to talk back to my grandma—and I’m ashamed to admit I did so often. One day as I was sitting in front of the TV my grandma said something to me and I cut her off or said something smart-alecky and then kept watching TV. She didn’t say anything, but before I knew it she had slowly walked up to me, leaned over and FLICKED me on my cheek. Hard. It hurt. And not just my cheek. I was probably only 7 or 8, but that flick woke me up. I suddenly felt embarrassed and ashamed for the way I had treated my grandma and I believe this marked the moment when I first started to see my grandma as a whole person—as someone with thoughts and feelings of her own and not just the person who made me grilled peanut butter sandwiches on demand. (p.s. Sooooo good.) And I also learned that my usually gentle, unassuming grandma was not to be trifled with.

As I grew up my grandma is someone who I came to love and respect deeply. What I understand now that I didn’t understand when I was a kid is that Grandma could usually be found serving others and the fact that she was serving people in her family often made it a thankless job. But Grandma was not a complainer. If there is one word that I think of when I think of Grandma it is content. Grandma was content with what she had in this life, and took the most pleasure in her family.

What I’ve learned from Grams about life is through observation as she was never preachy or prone to lectures. Grams has taught me that having enough is indeed enough. She taught me that happiness is not having what you want, but wanting what you have. She taught me that you can have a far reaching and impactful life even if you live quietly and humbly in a small Midwestern town that few people have ever heard of. She taught me how to make my all time favorite comfort food—oyster stew. She taught me to take advantage of the privileges I have been afforded—thus the reason I went to college and why I always, always vote. Grandma was an uncomplicated person, which is rare in this world and even more rare in our family. Grandma wasn’t one to psycho-analyze or categorize anyone’s faults—she loved and accepted you for who you were.

I love you grandma and I’m going to miss you so much. What I wouldn’t give to beat you in just one more game of Pay Me. But mostly, I’m grateful to have known you, loved you and to have been loved by you. Thank you for being a steady, calming and constant presence in my life and in the lives of many others. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself.” Thank you for all the gifts you gave me grams.

My hand on top of my grandma’s hands wearing her delicate wedding band that she gave me before she passed.

Thanks for all your kind words on Instagram and elsewhere in regards to my grandma’s death. I’ve had a rocky relationship with many people in my family, but not my Grams. She was loving, kind, easy-going and one of the more constant people in my life. Anyone else have a special bond with a grandparent?