In Memoriam

With video chatting and email, it's easy for those of us living abroad to forget the distance we've placed between ourselves and our loved ones. Though I was able to talk with my grandmother before she passed thanks to these technologies, they couldn't transport me to the memorial service to be there with my family. I did send a speech audio file, which seemed like far too little. I've been told that people want to see the text, and since most of my readership is family--and in larger part, because my grandmother read my posts--I'd like to share it here.

As a kid, going to Grandma Opal’s house always meant a really long car-ride, but it was always worth it to hear her ask if I had a hug for Grandma when we eventually rolled in in the wee hours of the night. Looking back at memories recorded through a child’s eyes, I remember Grandma Opal in conjunction with trips to playgrounds, giant dinners crowded around her table, flexible rules about TV and bedtime, and a seemingly endless amount and variety of pie. I remember thinking wrinkles weren’t so bad because they clearly came from smiling a lot. I remember looking forward getting a holiday patterned tin in the mail in December and hoping my dad wouldn’t eat the whole marshmallow roll. Or all the fudge. Or all the chocolate covered cherries. 

Through all the trips, I came to realize that being one of Grandma Opal’s grandchildren or great-grandchildren was a special blessing. For all those happy memories and all the love she put in her cooking and her hugs, I am immensely grateful.

As an adult, looking back on my grandmother’s life, I see a bigger story. I see a creative, fierce, hardworking, and independent woman. I see someone brave enough to sing Christmas carols with her granddaughter even though she still missed her old singing voice. I see someone wise enough to live life to the fullest with her family and community, even after losing someone she loved.  I see someone loving enough to welcome so many people into her family and into her life with an open heart and full table. And I am truly amazed.

I don’t want to say goodbye to my grandmother. I don’t want to think that I won’t ever get a note with her handwriting on it again. I don’t want to think about the stories I never got to hear. But this grief is a little selfish. Looking at her family, her close community, and all the experiences she lived through, no one could ever say her life was incomplete.

For everyone here, I think life is a little more meaningful, seeing it lived so well. I also think that for everyone here it’s a comfort, knowing that on the other side, she’ll be waiting by the door asking if you have a hug for grandma.

Thank you for everything, Grandma Opal, and rest well.