Notes Upon the Death of Your Grandmother : A Reply

Melville,

You honor me with the shared memories of your Nanny. My tears are not only for the grandmothers who aren’t with us but also for the strength & love they bestowed upon us – may we be worthy of carrying it forward.

Grandma was many things: hard working, funny, no nonsense and loving are but a few. She wasn’t an emotional person…I only saw her cry a few times.  The funerals of her brothers & my grandpa’s funeral.  She could be cantankerous & didn’t deal well with “the old bitch upstairs” who always seemed to make a racket. Grandma couldn’t hear you if you stood next to her but if the resident in the upstairs apartment broke wind Grandma would complain about the noise it made.

I learned the value of taking time in my day for myself-to lie down and rest, to read a book & nap. I wish I had learned her secret to the best pie ever…maybe I have time to learn yet. (These were noted by my cousin at the funeral & I am borrowing her words as they speak perfectly for me.)  One thing I will always carry is her love of flowers. On the farm flowers bloomed all summer. There were irises, tulips and pansies. Pansies are my favorite…Grandpa never let me leave the farm without a bunch wrapped in a damp paper towel to keep the fresh ‘til I got home.

Grandma loved to gamble…she played the scratch offs & visited the casino to play the nickel slots.  I am not a gambler…not only in the traditional sense but in general.  I tend to play it safe.  Another lesson I should take to heart before it is too late…sometimes a little gambling is good for you.

Today was the perfect day to say goodbye. The sky was a perfect spring blue & the sun shone down watery & chill on the prairie.  It was windy, whipping up my skirt as I stood there with my husband & our son.  Her urn was small & blue.  It looked lonely perched next to the headstone that already bears Grandpa’s name.  Since she was nearly a Groundhog baby (her birthday was Feb 1) being buried on April Fool’s Day would have delighted her.  I don’t know what I want at my grave…I do know that I want my children to know how much love I have for them.  Your idea of a lovely tall tree with riotous autumn colors sounds nice.  No black ash it is…they are much nicer when skilled hands have sawed & sanded, trimmed & tacked them into a beautiful piece of furniture.

Whether there is only one truth or many matters not when a brother turns against you. His loss for cutting a piece of love from his life. There is too much grief that comes from the world at large…the wars, hunger & disease that results are growing every day and you’ve expressed it more eloquently than I can right now…

Thank you for your words & for sharing my loss across the distances that sometimes separate friends.

Warmest regards,
Hawthorne

Author’s note: to read Melville’s letter go here