I just arrived back in the sweet prairie air, with many memories, new, sad, and healing, in my heart.
And what do I find in my mailbox?
A beautiful gift and note from you.
Thank you so much C. I wish I could have been there to celebrate your brother’s wedding, and I wish I could have seen you once more before the next.
Thank you for all of your kind words during my grandma’s passing. They meant so much.
The celebration was beautiful. The church (an enormous space) was overflowing. Seats were set up in the lobby so more people could join us. Her passing has left a big hole in many hearts. Many people spoke about her fierce politics and activism, as well as her generosity and love as a global neighbour, mother, grandmother, friend. She was warmly remembered, and her spirit was tangibly present that day. She would never have missed a party, especially one thrown in her honour.
She taught me that I can always do more. More to help. More to give. More to listen. More to love. She taught me to explore. To explore the world, to explore my mind, to explore my heart. She modelled genuine concern and care for every single person that crossed her path in life: her cab drivers, her cashiers, her nurses (were they treated well? had they gotten a break yet that day? were they paid adequately? or, where did they come from? what kind of family did they have? what were their aspirations?) She always told me that the answer to your prayers is at the end of your arm. That it’s not enough to wish well for someone without being active and doing all that we can. There is always something we can do, without question or pride. She genuinely cared and loved. She held so many people in her heart. She was an amazingly powerful and humble woman.
It was amazing to have our entire family gathered to celebrate our powerful matriarch. She was the thread that knit us all together. I sincerely hope we don’t unravel in her absence. It still seems surreal to me. I miss her incredibly. My memories of her still seem so alive, so tangible, so easy. It seems impossible that they can’t happen anymore.
We found a piece of paper in a box of her things that read, “God put me on this earth to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now I am so far behind that I will never die.” After 91 years, she finally finished her list.
Thank you for your thoughts, your time, your ear, and your beautiful words. They show you care, and I am forever grateful for that.
Can we skype Sunday eve?
Lots of love,