What my grandmother taught me
My grandmother was a steward of strength and supreme beauty.
She was a daughter, sister, wife to a devoted husband, mother of two divine daughters, a guardian of grandkids, strong-willed, wise, and witty.
She was a vibrant walking work of art who painted life's canvas with fine colors and expressions. Her contagious smile, Jontue cologne spray scent, and ornamental laugh occupied a room with chic and charisma.
She had a heart of gold and hair the color of steel curled and combed to perfection, accentuating the sparkle of her colorful classic clip-on earrings and eyes of the sea.
She taught me to savor life's sweetness, value integrity, carefully consider a decision, and always have a Kleenex in my pocket.
Cheer and care were central to her traditional home cooking and components of a nourishing life.
The forbidden flavors of her home catered to our tempting tummies filling the storerooms of our souls with rabbit-shaped sugar cookies, gooey Rice Krispy treats, and candied yams topped with crispy glutinous marshmallows and buttery brown sugar, a fancied Thanksgiving tradition.
You could always count on pieces of sugar-coated pectin fruit jellies in all their mouthwatering glory displayed in one of her hand-crafted brilliant crystal bowls on the living room end table.
She had a sturdy appetite for See's Candies, savory cheese enchiladas, and #24, Willie Mays, the "Say Hey Kid" and center fielder for the San Francisco Giants.
My grandma was active and had all the appropriate attire to complement her collection of sports and hobbies: golf, tennis, bocce ball, ping-pong, and card playing.
Known as the best athlete in the family, she was a strong shortstop with a swing that would knock the balls out of the park. One of my favorite stories centers around the infamous family picnic softball games – when grandma got up to bat, the outfield would move back. When my grandpa got up, the outfield moved in. Everyone laughed except Grandpa.
With my grandfather's death on March 3, 2002, came an end of an era. It was a new beginning for my grandmother that pioneered a new relationship for her and those she held dear.
For me and her, it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Now around the corner and living in Rossmoor, CA, instead of a 3-hour drive to Redding, I spent Sundays with my grandmother watching her favorite pastimes: The 49ers, professional golf, Fred Couples, and her abiding sweetheart, the San Francisco Giants.
My grandma enjoyed herself best when entertaining and in the presence of family. With her closer, she would share in more holidays and celebrations: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Saint Patrick's Day, Easter, birthdays, graduations, and weddings.
One of the last times we were all together as a family with my grandma was celebrating my mom's birthday on September 30. She made tomato soup cake topped with candles and generous cream cheese icing that melted in your mouth, my mom's favorite. She beamed from ear to ear in her silky-smooth turquoise blouse.
A month later, my grandma was hit by a car as she harmlessly walked across the crosswalk to her doctor's appointment. Life would never be the same. The tragic and torturous details of her death left us brokenhearted and with unanswered questions that would haunt us for years.
With her death, I got a taste of how hard and unjust life and death could be and a sense of profound pain, grief, and suffering I had yet to experience or have the skills to be with or soothe.
My grandmother's passing was a punctuation in time and the beginning of yet another iteration of our beautiful connection.
She has become a guardian of my spirit and sense of stability. When the sharp pain of despair and grief pierce my lungs, and the shortness of breath is all I feel, she comes in like a soft ocean breeze and long exhale.
In the depths of sorrow, when life feels unsure and heavy, she appears with her deep blue eyes reflecting her inherent qualities of ease, grace, and wisdom within me. When my heart tries to close and protect itself from pain, she reminds me of my capacity not to shy away from discomfort and stay open to the richness of love.
She showed me that with time and healing, our deepest wounds can mend, and the horrific details of our lives can soften. By honoring my pace and process and leaning into what feels unbearable, I heal, she heals, and the healing ripples out in ways we may not know or realize.
When I light a candle, look into the vast universe, or find myself at the sea's edge, I close my eyes and see myself in her. I listen near and hear her whisper in the wind, "I love you, honey bunch."
I honor her by carrying her love and values forward and rest, knowing she is never far behind and closer than she may appear.
Her essence, independent nature, strength, kindness, and beauty live in us, and her love remains.
Prompt
what my grandmother taught me
like a soft ocean breeze
Grab a pen and paper or your favorite journal. Set your timer. Write for 15 minutes, pen never leaving the page. See what words flow.
I would love to hear about your journey and experience with the prompts and process of flow writing. Hit *reply* to share or *click* and leave a comment.
Dina, what a beautifully woven tribute to your grandmother! Your words transported me to a world where cherished memories and the sweet aroma of nostalgia blend seamlessly. The passage about the "pieces of sugar-coated pectin fruit jellies" showcased not only her exquisite taste but also the love she poured into every detail of her life. Just like those jellies glistening in the crystal bowl, your writing sparkles with the same radiant essence. Thank you for sharing this heartwarming piece that celebrates the legacy of your grandmother.