Grandma Remembered

I love this picture of my Grandmother as a young woman because of her eyes, the softness of her face and the stylish way she dressed. She was born on this day in 1910. The color photo was taken about a year before her death in October, 2003. She was one of the kindest people I know. I think about her often and sometimes I miss her. Though she was gentle, her presence and values remain very strong in my spirit. I remember her easily.



The year after she died I wrote a birthday letter to her, as I did every year, and sent it to my Mom, Dad, brothers, cousins and aunt who were all close to her. I reprint it below.




Dear Grandma,

I am proud to call you my Grandmother. You loved me and all your grandchildren well.

Thank you for being a passionate storyteller. For indulging me with tales about Hellie Baby, dancing with your girlfriends, fish frys and meeting Grandpa. Thank you for repeating these stories as often as I asked to hear them. Thank you for telling your tales until sleep tugged at my eyelids and I went to bed first. Your interest in life helped give me hope for my old age.

Thank you for the sweets you baked or bought, fed us and wrapped up for us:
Homemade almond pastry, apple, pecan and pumpkin pies, peanut butter cookies, chocolate chips cookies, rhubarb jam. Reese Easter eggs, Hershey kisses, Fannie Mae maple crèmes, mint power!

I loved that you love to buy new clothes. What a sweet difference to Grandpa’s second hand pants and shirts and dumpster dive shoes. I got a kick out of his pride in his frugality and an admiration for your hip sense of style.

Thank you for the faithful and constant letters you wrote to me. They narrowed the miles between us and kept us close at heart. Thank you for saving mine to you.

Thank you for watching Lawrence Welk with me on Saturday nights. For always saying “yes” to splitting a beer with me even if it was just a few sips. Thank you for the homemade meals and your love of food and eating out. And the second stomach you had just for desserts. I have this stomach, too.

Thank you for sending me Portals of Prayer all those months and years. I didn’t appreciate them then, though I understood the love from which they were given. I’d read them if I had them now. A message from God sent through you. Thank you for teaching me about Christianity. I learned its true meaning in the way you loved me. God is the one friend I talk to each day, every day. You paved the way early. Thank you.

Thank you for your tears when Umeeta decided to leave.
Dad told me you said:
“I’m sad for Kim. She’s all alone” when you heard the news.
Thank you for loving Umeeta and Danielle.

Thank you for the green stoned ring. I admired it on your finger. One day you gave it to me. It was worn by your dear friend, Trix. I had it resized and started wearing it this year. I took it with me to the place I went to face my fears. Then, in an exercise at this place, I was asked to find something of value that I thought I couldn’t live without. I chose the ring you had given me. The exercise was to give it away. I cried and cried and cried as I wrapped your ring in gift paper, sealed it with a bow and put it in a box for someone else. I curled up on the floor and wept in heaves. Someone put a blanket over me. That day I had a glimpse of love as infinite. Love as understanding. Love as healing. I know for sure that you loved me. Unconditionally. Thank you. I know for sure that I am loveable. That I love. I have work to do on the unconditional part.

Thank you for allowing me to be close to you always. And during your last week of life, thank you for being the peacemaker when Grandpa and I were fearful and helpless. Thank you for allowing me to feed you, lotion you, massage you, change you, check on you. Thank you for hanging in there until Dad got home.

Thank you for the lip kisses and hugs at each visit and each goodbye. Thank you for standing on your porch in the summer and in your window in the winter with Grandpa waving goodbye to me as I drove off and continuing to wave until we could no longer see each other.

I see you, Grandma. You are in my heart’s eye. I love you.

Happy 96th Birthday!