A Post In Honor of My Grandmother: Mary J.

*It took me a while to write this post. Lots of little notes for myself, lots of starting and stopping. But I think I'm done with it. 
It will never be perfect, but it's what I have as I sit looking back on a wonderful life that was fully lived.*

A person's life is a funny thing.

It's made up of choices, experiences, places you've been, and the relationships that you've had with other people.

Some people know you from the beginning of your life. Others that you'll meet won't grace you with their presence until the end.  Others may trickle in and out throughout your life, some for only a short while, others embedding themselves to stay for the long-haul.

And when reflecting on someone's life that has touched you, whether for 5 minutes or the entire time that you've been alive, you'll often come away with one thing: stories.

Some stories you have about your time with that person.
Some stories you use as an analogy for who that person was.
And some stories are ones that you heard from that same person that you decided, or maybe accidentally, took with you. They aren't your stories to tell,  but you carry them with you . They serve as an imprint of that person and a way to keep them close.

If one were to take all of these stories of a person and their life and put them all together, they might find an image or outline of who that person was.

Like an incomplete puzzle, there it would lay. With holes, and overlapping pieces. You wouldn't have the whole thing, but you'd be able to get the general idea of what that life was all about and what it cherished the most.

My Grandmother passed away 9 days ago. On a quiet Friday morning in September. The last day of September to be exact.

She was 86.

She was Survived by 10 children, 33 Grandchildren, and 26 Great-Grandchildren.

While we all knew that her health was not the best these days, we expected her to be around for maybe another few years. She needed extra care, but could travel, live with a relative, and do many things for herself. 

She fell and hit her head on a Monday. Her brain started to swell sometime during the week, and she passed away from complications by the end of the week.

I was able to visit her in the hospital to say my goodbye's.
At that point she wasn't fully conscious.
With my husband by my side, I held her hand and spoke to her.
I whispered private whispers, told her of my love for her,  and made a few jokes with her as I would if she were awake.

I will never know if she could hear me. I'd like to think that she could. For me, whether she could or not is not important.

The details of exactly what I said, for you my readers, are not important either.

But I will tell you, that I never said goodbye. I left her with a, "See you later, Gram."

Of course, like anyone who loses someone that they're close to in their life, I was sad when I heard the news. I teared up when I told my husband that she was gone. I cried when we sang the songs that she had once played on the piano and sang to us.


But, now that it's said and done, I take great comfort in the time that I had with her.

It's never easy to lose someone, but a person, through their actions during their life, can make it easier for you to let them move on to their next one.

Gram, well Gram did this by giving us stories.

Among the stories that I carry with me about my grandmother is that every time I saw her, she would hug me, kiss me on the cheek, and then take my face into her hands and tell me  that she loved me so much. When I sat next to her she would hold my hand, and ask me how my life was, ask about Dave, and tell me how beautiful of a person I was, inside and out.

I have stories about going "poking" in her attic for scented soaps, old seashells, and outdated National Geographics.

I have stories about her playing piano, singing louder than everyone else in the room.

I have stories of her sitting and watching others at family get-togethers.

I have stories of her and I switching wise-cracks back and forth.

I have stories of her being at my wedding this February. Of tearing up when I saw her face and the face of my other wonderful Grandmother when they saw me for the first time. Of her telling me how happy she was that I found such a wonderful man, because he was just the kind of man that I deserved.

I have stories of watching her with my grandfather and knowing that what they shared was true love.
(I mean, if you can raise 10 kids and stay married for as long as they did, it's got to be true love right?)

I have stories of eavesdropping on her as she sat and spoke with my mother and one of my countless Uncles.

I have stories that exemplify her great humor. Like that time that she came up to visit me one early Saturday morning at College with my father, found out that my cousin lived in the same hallway of my dorm as I did, and decided to knock on his door. You should've seen the look on his face. You also should've seen the look on hers. 

I have stories of the times that she made me feel better about myself when I couldn't feel good about myself. She'd tell me I was tall and beautiful and bold like an Amazon woman and I shouldn't let anyone else tell me any different.

I have stories about sitting down with her on the back porch so she could, "have a smoke" and telling me about my father when he was a child, myself as a child, or herself as a child.

I have stories about her telling me about wildlife, and family, and Jesus. Stories that she told me about meeting my grandfather, about going swimming in the brook, stories about becoming a born-again Christian. Stories that she told me about what she thought about me, what I could become, and how proud she was of who I was.

I have stories that others told me about her. How she was as a mother. How she was as a grand-mother to others. How she was as a great-grandmother.

The crazy thing about all of these stories?

Whenever someone told a story about her, they always mentioned how special she made them feel. Whether they were her son, daughter, grandchild, great-grandchild, or friend, she had this special ability.

Whether it was just you and her a crowd full of people in the room, (which with my family, is a strong possibility) she could always make you feel special.

With Gram, I always felt like one of a kind. And from what I've gathered from others, so did everyone else.

While gathering all of these stories and sharing my own over the weekend, I also noticed that with all of the stories you could find a theme that was strung throughout all of them.

The themes were these: Love and Faith.

Whether it was told by her or about her, her stories always exemplified:
1. Her enduring love for  all others and God.
2. Her infinite Faith in other people and God.


These two messages hold true in every memory that I have of her, and will shape the memory that I hope to pass onto my own children and grand-children someday.

I mentioned that she made her passing as easy as she could have for all of us. Well, her stories weren't just what made letting go easy. These two themes did as well.

I heard, from someone, I forget whom, that earlier in the same week that she passed, she was told by a doctor she might not make it much longer.  And in that moment she was not worried or upset. She was ready. She was eager to see her late husband, and to meet Jesus.

Or at least that's how the story goes.

Now that my vision is cloudy, I think it's time to end this small and meek remembrance of a larger than life woman whom  many will miss.


But before I end, I'll share some of my favorite pictures of her from her 85th birthday and from my wedding. Some that I've taken, and some that were taken for me. Because I may have plenty of stories, but a picture is worth a thousand words.

Just smiling for the camera.

Good for a wink.

Sashaying her way down the aisle after my ceremony

Private talk at the reception.

Formals at the church.

Showing her how to take a self portrait.

And how could I forget my all time favorite picture of her?

That lady could really pull off the classic black one-piece.

Finally, I'll  polish off this post with two quotes from my grandmother's favorite book and two quotes from one of my favorite books.

As she was someone that appreciated the written word, it's just the way that I think she'd like it.

So Gram, have fun on your next great adventure. You deserve everything you've had and everything that I'm sure you have now.

I'll be seeing you later.