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Sunday, January 29, 2023

With All My Love

 



Usually, I know what to say, but this is one of those times when everything I write seems to come out wrong. Nothing seems to do justice to this woman who I loved and who loved so deeply. If you knew my grandma, you know there aren't enough words in our language to describe how truly wonderful she was. Still, I process with words, so I'm going to do my best to form them. 

I love this picture of my grandmother. I feel it shows just how silly and full of joy for life she was. In many of the memories people have shared over these past two weeks, most have been of her smiling and of her enjoying her experience on this earth. My grandmother is a person who mastered finding contentedness in life and even more than that in finding joy. In the face of a world filled with challenges, I watched as she enjoyed the beautiful things. She lived in a house she bought a few years before I was born where she could enjoy the beauty of a lake that spread out before her balcony. That view brought her so much happiness. 

She got to enjoy when the grandkids were young and her children would bring them out to spend hours in the hot Texas sun playing in the water. She enjoyed watching the birds glitter around and provided them supplies for their nests. She got to watch her children and grandchildren grow up. The last few times I saw my grandmother, she would be so overcome with joy at how we grandchild had turned out that she'd have tears in her eyes. 

She was a proud lady and not very humble about it. I often heard her say that we were a very talented family. Of course, she wasn't wrong, we have actors, musicians, artists, sports stars, and more in our family. Although I suppose each of us has to have something when there are 21 grandchildren. 

My grandmother was one of my first supporters when it came to my writing. When I was a child and carried around a notebook, she always insisted on reading my work. I remember her telling my dad once that I was writing a little mature for my age. (Makeout scenes in a story written by a fourth grader are a little alarming). She always took an interest in my writing. And when I changed my path and decided to go into government, she supported me despite her lifelong commitment to republicanism and my raging liberal mindset. She was excited too when I once again changed my mind and switched to library science. She had wanted to connect me with the librarians out in Canyon Lake so I could come stay with her. 

I never got to tell her that I've started writing again. Not just these posts, but I've been working on a story. I'm not sure I would've wanted her to read it (it's definitely mature, although I am an adult now), but I know she would've been excited and I probably would've given in and let her see at least a little. 

My grandma was one of my great-loves. I love my family tremendously, but she had a very special place in my heart and soul. There was no way for me to prepare myself for the all-consuming sense of loss I feel now that she's gone. To know I'll never have her make elephant noises at me and a gesture for a trunk to let me know I need to straighten my back, to never have her hug me, to never see her smile, to never hear one of her silly stories, all feels overwhelming. 

But when I'm not in tears over my sadness at losing her, I'm in tears over the memories of loving her. I'm grateful for having known her as I know many people are. She taught me the importance of caring. She dedicated her life to working toward making other people's lives better. She worked with children with disabilities and believed in the tough kids when no one else did. She volunteered for CASA because she couldn't keep herself from helping people who needed her even after retiring. She was always there for my dad, my brother, and I when we needed her. She went to hundreds of concerts, plays, games, award ceremonies, birthday parties, and more. She traveled all over the country. She brought joy to every person she interacted with. 

So even as this sense of loss overwhelms me, I think of what she'd want. I know she'd want the people she loved to keep going. She'd want us to keep enjoying the little things and above all else to hold on to our joy. For her, I'm doing my best to find things to keep me joyful, to keep me motivated, and to keep me creative. 

My grandmother was a book buyer, a hobby I probably learned from her. Like her, many of my books are unread or have a bookmark only a few pages in. I think I can speak for both of us in the statement that it's not always about reading the books, sometimes it's about knowing they're there. It's knowing there's the option to pick one up and escape or learn something new. It's feeling like you're surrounded by old friends. Although I have made an effort to sell or donate some of my books, I know that like her I will one day live in a house in which there are books in every room, in every possible space. And although I know that is something she will never get to see, I can still picture her enjoyment of coming into a home that looks not so different from her own and being surrounded by books. 

Although she's gone, she's still with me, I can still see her smile, hear her voice, and feel the softness of her skin. My grandmother is imprinted deeply into my mind and soul. I am so grateful for having known her, having learned compassion from her, and having been loved by her. 

All my love to you, Grandma. 

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