Honouring Women

Both my grandmothers passed away a little over a year ago, and at that time I wrote down some thoughts about these 2 ladies who played such a huge role in making me who I am today. In honour of International Women's Day, I want to share those thoughts with you. Keep in mind that these are my experiences and perceptions, so your mileage may vary. I in no way mean to negate or diminish the validity of anyone’s experiences that differ from my own.

December 2017

My grandmother passed away early last week. I’m sitting at the airport waiting for my flight back to Toronto after coming down home for the funeral, and have been reflecting on the whole experience. My grandmother was a truly remarkable lady. I know I’m biased, but I really think she was. She had 7 kids, 14 grandkids and 15 great-grandkids (so far…). Most of us made it home, and it was wonderful to be able to catch up with the aunts, uncles and cousins, some of whom I haven’t seen in 20 years or more.

We’re a loud, rowdy, laughing bunch when we all get together. Gram would have loved every minute of it. There was a rightness to the entire weekend, as we laughed and cried together, telling stories that had everyone in stitches while also bringing tears to the eye because they reminded us so much of Gram and her impact on all of us. I come from a family of story-tellers. Gram herself could, and often did, spin a tale that would have all us grandkids totally spellbound and asking to go to bed early the next day so we could hear how it all turned out.

I also come from a family of musicians. Gram loved music – it was such an important part of her life. She wanted the grandkids to sing at her funeral, so we did. Even the ones who aren’t so musical, because you don’t say no to Gram. Not successfully anyway. All 12 of us that were able to be there put together a rendition of “Joy to the World” in 4-part harmony with musical accompaniment in about 20 minutes. That’s how we roll in Gram’s family. Then at the regular church service this morning (Sunday), it was so amazing to stand with all the aunts, uncles and most of the cousins and hear the harmonies as we sang, just as a matter of course. Knowing that we were all automatically blending and changing the lead and harmonies based on what the person next to you was doing and what sounded right. 

Last night, most of the cousins went to Patti & Adam’s place to hang out away from the “grown-ups” – though we’re all grown-ups ourselves, most with kids of our own. It was a lot of fun. Remembering things about our childhoods, talking about everything and nothing, and what the future would be like with our surviving grandfather and our own aging parents. We then realized that our parents used to do this exact same thing, going over to Uncle Murray & Aunt Judy’s across the dooryard from Gram & Gramp’s to have their own time away from the “grown-ups”. And they probably had the same kinds of conversations.

The visitation and funeral were unlike any other I’ve been a part of. While there was definitely an undercurrent of sadness, the dominant feeling was one of joy and celebration. People were laughing and sharing. The funeral was full of music and laughter. And tears, lots of tears, but they weren’t tears of despair or overwhelming grief. Gram wouldn’t have wanted that. She would have loved it. Seeing everyone together, talking and laughing and blubbering and eating (lots of eating!) and just being a big, loving, messy, imperfect, beautiful family. All in large part because of the amazing woman who taught us so much about how to live, and love, and deal with all the ups and downs and changes and monotonies that come with life.

I’ll miss you, Gram. You will always be an integral part of this family. Thank you for loving so fiercely and gently, so generously and fully, so truly unconditionally. You didn’t always agree with the decisions your family made, and had no problem letting us know when that was the case, but I always knew that you loved us. No matter what. In that way, you showed me what Jesus’s love is like in a very real, tangible way. He shone through you so clearly to me. I hope that someday my own family will look back on my life with the same adoration, respect and love with which we have spent this weekend looking back on yours. You lived a remarkable life, and I’m proud to be your granddaughter.

*****************************

March 2018

So, my other grandmother passed away a few months after I wrote the words above. It’s been a little over a month now since that funeral and I’ve once again been reflecting on everything. I have been so blessed to have two such different and yet equally wonderful women as part of my heritage and heart.

Big Grammy (so called because when my brother and I were kids, she took care of her mother who was a tiny, tiny woman and therefore went by Little Grammy) was all about her home and her family. She enjoyed the simple things in life – bright red geraniums, watching the deer and birds she fed, growing her tomatoes. I think she was happiest when taking care of the people she loved, something she did a great deal of over the course of her life.

Things I will always associate with Big Grammy: amazing fresh baked bread with homemade strawberry jam, her canned peaches, cleaning and sorting eggs, cooking with the wood stove even after getting an electric one, massive turkey dinners with all the trimmings and at least 3 kinds of pie and 2 non-pie dessert options, her chocolate cake with brown sugar fudge frosting, sitting at the kitchen table keeping an eye on things out the window, the hissing sound she’d make when the person driving the car did something she thought was a little dangerous, the smile on her face when you’d walk through the kitchen door for a visit.

The visitation and funeral were quite a bit different from my other grandmother’s in some ways, and very similar in others. Both were celebrations of a full life, well lived. Both were a chance to reconnect with cousins, aunts and uncles. Some of my cousins I hadn’t seen in over 14 years, back when they were 6-10 years old. Now they’re all grown up and going to university or working and starting families of their own. All 7 of the aunts and uncles were there, plus 12 of the 13 grandkids, and 2 of the 6 great-grandkids. The main difference is that this side of the family is a pretty quiet bunch, being introverts one and all (except Uncle Roy – we’re not sure what happened with him). We love one another, but without a lot of fanfare and with as little verbal communication as possible.

I was touched by how many people from the community came out to the visitation. I hadn’t really stopped to think about it before, but Big Grammy was very much a part of her community. She lived her whole life in Oak Point, raised her family there, and died there. Most of the people who came to the visitation, unless they were there to visit one of the family, were her neighbours. Her roots were so deep, so firmly entrenched in the place that was her home.

Over the course of the week, I was reminded of how very much I take after Big Grammy. I’m happiest when I’m at home, though I’m less particular as to where that home is, puttering about and taking care of my family. I’m not a big fan of going out, though I always enjoy myself once someone manages to drag me to something. I love fresh bread, and baking and cooking for my family, and take great pleasure from the simple things in life. Looking at the pictures that were put together for the visitation/funeral, I also look remarkably like her when she was my age.

I’ll miss you, Grammy. You were the solid, steady rock that this family relied on for so much. Thank you for the constant love and care that you showed in every way you could. You were always so happy when I came to see you, and always made me feel special and important to you. I’m so glad that God saw fit to make me as much like you as he did. I’ll do my best to “Be good, go to church, love God,” just as you did. Your life was one of quiet beauty, and I’m proud to be your granddaughter.