Remembering Grannyma
Dec 13th, 2007 by Laura
My grandmother passed away last Sunday evening. She was 83 years old. She lasted two weeks after her stroke, a week of that at home. She was able to see most of her grandchildren and all 6 of her children. She will be missed.
I am not traveling home for the service, instead I’m choosing to let my goodbyes with her 10 days ago serve me. She was my last living grandparent, and so my parents are now the oldest generation in our family. A strange thought, and not one that I’m sure what to do with.
My mom asked me if I wanted to send a letter to have read at the service tomorrow. This is what I sent.
As one of the few grandchildren not making it to the service today, my mom asked me if I wanted to share my favorite memory of my grandmother. I’ve been thinking about this all week, playing back the many memories of her that I hold dear and I’ve realized that I don’t have just one memory that rises above all the rest. So I want to share the many bits and pieces that make up my best memories.
I’ll remember my grandmother as a woman with strong opinions. A woman who wasn’t afraid to tell you what she thought, and even what you should think. But also a woman who loved with a strength to match her convictions.
I’ll remember my grandmother as the maker of my favorite childhood treats. Ice cream pies, molasses cookies, cinnamon rolls, Danish pastry, dill pickles, sour dough waffles with jam, fruit jerky and those funny looking chocolate and chow mein noodle cookies.
I’ll remember springs spent tending lambs. Summers spent picking berries for a quarter a box and freezing corn. Cool autumn evenings killing chickens. And winter afternoons doing barn chores just before dusk.
I’ll remember snowy evenings sitting by the fire on lambskin rugs. Sunday morning brunches around that big old table. Holiday dinners and vying for that one red plate. Games of pool in the basement. Skating on the pond and sledding on the hill. Christmas trees with the lighted star on top and hand made ornaments.
When I think of my grandmother I’ll remember all of these things and more. I will remember that she was at my graduation and my wedding. That she listened to my silly stories about my chickens. That she gave me her pickle recipe this summer and that mine taste just like hers.
I will be eternally grateful that I was able to come home and see her two weeks ago. That I got to have one more laugh with her, and one more cry. That she knew I was there and so did I. That I got to say goodbye while she could still hear me.
These are the memories that will stay with me. The stories I will tell. She and my grandfather will stay with me as I toss scratch to my chickens and tend my garden. They will be a part of me while I’m cooking down jam and brining pickles. She was my grandmother and I will remember her. I hope you will too.
Oh, Laura.. I am so sorry.
What a wonderful letter, and what great memories.
Laura, I’m so sorry for your loss, and at the same time glad for you that you were able to get that time with her before she left you. She was a beautiful woman.
P~
I’m so sorry for your loss. But I am so happy to hear you have so many wonderful memories and were blessed to have such a wonderful mentor in your life. Beautiful tribute.
Laura, I’m so sorry for your loss. I know she was a special woman to you, the way you’ve spoken about her of late (I’ve only been reading for a few weeks
My mom makes those chocolate chow mein cookies too…she makes hers with peanuts. Every year for the neighbors, for as long as I can remember….I can send you some if you’d like
I am sorry for your loss. Your touching words made me cry. She sounds just like my grandma. I lost her when I was seven. You were lucky to have know her as a grown woman. I’ll be thinking of you and your family.
It sounds like you have been able to find peace, Laura, I’m glad for you.
What a beautiful letter. It sounds like your grandmother enriched your life in ways that you will continue to discover — in a way, part of her will live on in you. I’m both sorry for your loss and happy for you that you got that one last chance to visit. God bless you.
Beautiful memories - thank you for sharing them. I’m glad you got to say goodbye.
Thank you everyone. I heard from my mom that it was a wonderful service with friends and family of all ages. I’m glad that I got to say goodbye.
The service today was just what she would have loved, lots of people, good food, fond memories, kyds playing in the background.
And we all wore a little bit of red, her favorite color. We had one of our handmade quilts with a wool batt from the sheep, wooden lambs among the poinsettias, Christmas carols for the prelude and postlude, lots and lots of pictures from her full and loving life, and we even walked in to her favorite carol, The Little Drummer Boy. Joy to the World sent us all out into the world to carry on her legacy. Back at the house we made the famous ginger cookies, the grandchildren rolling the dough in sugar before putting them in the oven. It was all good. Life goes on, abundantly.
Your grandma’s celebration was special Laura. It was held at the church that you, your mom, Danny, and Sam attended for many years. A church that is what I would call, “minimalist” in it’s thought and nature. A church that focuses on the basics of our humanity and helping all that need it. No matter their station or situation. Hold family in your heart, and keep it there for your time on earth. You, your family and your mom’s family are the essence of us, and that is the important thing in life.
Thank you for your thoughts of grandma. I’m sure she heard you, as your mom and I did.
We love you, and think of you and Mike always!
Dad
Oh Laura. I should have checked your blog before your Flickr photos.
I’m so sorry about your Grandma’s passing, but I’m glad that you got to see her one last time. I really relate to what you say about your grandparents living on in you… I feel exactly the same about mine. Peace to you.
Please accept my condolences. She sounds like an amazing woman, who lived an incredible life. We should all strive to live as well as she did.
[…] it was getting back in touch with where my meals really come from. Or having our own hens. Or my grandmother dying and that feeling like it was the end of something important. Or maybe I’ve never really been […]