The Stories She Gave Me: On books and the death of my grandmother
I had a complicated relationship with my grandmother. We lived across the country from one another. I grew up mostly without her. My mother loved her mother, though, and that was always alive and clear to me. I loved my grandmother based off my mother's love. When she moved into my natal family home for the last of her life, I was excited to get to know her better.
We shared a love of reading that spanned generations. It was a good thing, too, because my grandmother rarely left her room. She considered herself "in the way." The truth was she suffered chronic pain and debilitating low self-esteem. But she was full of love for us, her family. Her door was almost always open. And whenever I had the opportunity, I would talk books with her.
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When I learned she liked Sue Monk Kidd, I gifted her The Secret Life of Bees and The Mermaid Chair. She asked me some months later whether I had enjoyed them. I hadn't read them. This was unusual because I had been reading her favorites and suggestions since I was a child. On my bookshelf now is the complete Anne of Green Gables series, a gift from her (through my mother) one Christmas.
Grammie promptly gave me her copy of The Mermaid Chair. It has been moving from bookshelf to bookshelf unread for several years. Grammie is gone now. I missed her today and found myself staring at my books. The title I'd gifted her stood out. So I picked it up. I opened it. I began to read.
There is something about lyrical prose that soothes the soul. I can tell I will love this story. I feel ready to read it now. I need this connection to a woman who has moved on.
I believe that our connections to our loved ones do not die when they do. We have a choice: we can keep them alive by pursuing what was shared. By celebrating even though it often hurts. Or we can let them wither by focusing only on loss. Loss is tragedy, but it much more than sadness.
Today, I am remembering how soft and warm my grandmother was to hug. I am allowing myself to cry. I feel I am connected to her through much more than just matrilineage. Her intelligence and avid readership informed who I have become beyond anything either of us could have anticipated. Because, as with me, reading was the flip side of writing for her. She was a brilliantly creative soul whose stories were tender and ripe with their own magic.
I am grateful to have known her.
What connects you to those who have moved on from this life?
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Thanks for sharing this story today. This part stuck out to me "I believe that our connections to our loved ones do not die when they do. We have a choice: we can keep them alive by pursuing what was shared."
I had a cousin that took his own life. We really enjoyed playing video games together. Lately, I've been avoiding planning those games like the plague. Reading you piece made me realize that I should consider doing that again.
I was surprised how quickly my opinion of video games changed after his death. I thought they were silly, a waste of time, and something I really needed to just quit.
I am starting to second guess my motivations for wanting to stop.
This was a great read. Thank you!
@chrismccron, Thank you for sharing this. I can't imagine your grief at your cousin's loss, but it makes sense you would grant yourself distance from what you shared in order to have time to heal. The anger of grief must go somewhere for awhile. If you want to write through it at all, connect with me on Discord. I'd love to support you.
Thanks, @shawnamawna! I'll have a think on that. Very kind of you to offer that kind of help. Have a wonderful day!
This was beautiful.
I have been very fortunate, at age 46, not to have lost anyone I was truly close to. My grandparents all passed when I was still quite young, or before I was born. My parents are still around. I've had acquaintances pass away, but not close friends. I know this won't last. I dread that.
It won't last, and it will hurt, but it also won't be the end. There is an inheritance beyond the physical our loved ones leave behind, and we sometimes get to know them best once they've moved on. I don't intend this morbidly. I hope your family stays healthy and in your life for a very long time. I'm speaking to the dread. There will be beauty there as well. <3
Thank you.
I enjoyed your reminiscences about your grandmother. Those relationships are like no other. My grandmother and my connection to her was special too. Your post brought back memories.
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Thank you for posting this. I once read somewhere that no one truly dies until they are forgotten. Your words have helped me realize that we are no better off remembering someone for the loss they let us with than if we lost them entirely. If we instead remember what they have given to us and, in mourning their death, celebrate their life, the connection that we share may never be lost at all.
How beautifully put. Yes, let's remember what they have given to us. In addition to a love of words, my grandmother showed me how to take care of myself and gave me the drive to do it. I could see that as a negative as it happened through her lack of self-care, but the fact is she inspired me and she was very, very proud of me for treating myself the way she could never treat herself.
the story is pretty amazing, that bond you were able to build, that bridge you were able to construct between you and you grandma was amazing, you forgot about you and focused on her, what she loved, it brought both of you together, and it so happens it is now what you also enjoy, its something i have been trying to learn how to connect with people, not just outsiders but also your family
what connects me is LOVE
Love is enormously gorgeous. I am happy to know you here because you do seem very full of love. Conscious love. What a wonderful gift you offer.
This was a beautifully-put way to honour your grandmother and what she meant to you. Thank you for sharing it. :)
Thank you so much for reading. <3
Sadly, the saying that "only after we lose something, we actually understand how valuable it is/was to us" is true every time.
A person is immortal as long as we speak and have memory of him or her. If that person is a part of our family, an ancestor, than we are the actual living proof that this person is still alive. He or she lives through us.
A part of your grandmother will always be alive through you and the generations to follow.
Your post was actually a food for the thought, so thank you. I will follow you for more !
It's true that we are proof of those who came before us. Even richer is that when they had healthy dreams, we can work to achieve them in their honor.
This brought tears to my eyes. All my grandparents have passed by the time I was 17; three of them had already passed by the time I was 12. Reading posts like this makes me feel weird. On the one hand, I can feel the connection you had with your grandmother, and how she impacted who you are today. At the same time, I get the blues, as I never really had a deep connection with any of my grandparents. The last grandmother I had, she had 8 children and 30 grand-children. Her house was always busy. I met my cousins there frequently, but never really developed a deep connection with her. And then she was quite sick for the last 2 or 3 years of her life. Seeing me, she would think that I'm one of her sons (my uncle).
However, as you said, I can connect with her through what my mother's experiences. She was a great mother to my mother, and I can see that in the way my mother raised me. It's quite indirect, but her impact is there. Thank you for this post. Weird fuzzy feelings...
I hear those weird fuzzies. Sometimes it's the legacy or the myth we miss. Stories spanning generations. It sounds like your last grandmother was a family hub who connected you with your extended family. You could frame that as your relationship with her. That sickness . . . my grandmother died of Alzheimer's. I know the feeling of being mistaken quite well.
Yeah, she definitely was a family hub. We used to meet almost every week (Malta is small, so we live relatively close). Ever since she had gotten really sick, we stopped meeting; it's a shame.
Alzheimer's sucks. You want to make the best out of the last days, but you really can't. I remember my mother did not want us to see my grandmother in her last year so that we keep remembering her to how she used to be before.
That's the incredible thing about books, it's ready whenever you are! This had me thinking of my own grandmother whom I lost a year and a half ago. Instead of books, she passed on to me recipes. Whenever I miss her especially, I make one of them.
<3 My other grandmother taught me to roll grape leaves. It's so beautiful what we share.
Wooo very classy
Thank you.