My life was fairly normal for a while until one day when I was 6 years old my mother/her daughter was hit by a car and killed. It was the kind of wound that affects a lifetime. Actually it affects several because I can see in my own childrens’ eyes. I was sent spiraling off in another direction from the rest of the entire world that day. And so was she. It felt like there was nothing anybody could do for us, just stark reality. To put it mildly, it was lonely. Our mothers are our first sources of unconditional love in this world. I knew then, at 6, that life kept no promises. Granny knew that too.
We weren’t very close for a long time really. I mean we mingled, but we were both so thwarted and by the time we kind of eased back together, we saw those scars in each other and connected through them. Well, pretty sure she saw mine first but… she had that way of really seeing people.
I mean it could have gone any number of other ways. We’ve all seen it happen over much less. Families look very different sometimes even year to year. Things happen, issues get complicated, tiresome even. People die. Different connections are established. New connections are formed.
And to be honest Granny and I, we had nothing in common…except family. But, somehow or another, that was enough.
One of the hardest things I ever had to do was come out of the closet to her. To be perfectly honest, I don’t even remember doing it. I remember the many years I’d often practice doing it - every lunch, every hopeless annual winter coat shopping search - and then there were the years after I’d done it. Years complicated by communication issues, and cemented in time. I may not actually remember many details of that first moment but I feel it was full of grace. And from my lil’ ol’ devoted Catholic Mary-loving Granny, that meant more than so many others ever get.
Granny taught me the value of the little things. That moment when you push yourself and grow even just a little bit? She’d see it. That thing you needed more than anybody else? She’d get it to you if she could. That effort nobody else would put in? Granny was there. Countless stories I’ve heard of rides she procured, and concern that she showed. Every little thing in every little moment.
And every one of her children, and children’s children, and children’s children’s children… every one of us try. But we fail because none of us have what she had.
There are Christians who say they love Jesus. This woman knew Him. This woman lived like a student of Jesus who’d reached the upper level class. I was in the Emergency Room once with her and this man and woman sought me out to ask me if this was indeed my grandma. When I said yes they acted like I held VIP Backstage passes to Heaven. Granny was in full blown Dementia at the time but her character showed so plainly through. Every person in that room was experiencing a tremendous amount of stress whether they were doctors, nurses, aids, family or patients. And Granny watched, saw, spoke encouraging, empathetic messages, and prayed for them all.
I wish I didn’t always have so much on my mind. I’ve come to a lot of realizations in my life, but they still creep up on me daily. I had a procedure a few months ago I was nervous about and as they were about to put me under a nurse told me to “Find [my] happy place.” On a dime my mind instantly went to the old Obernburg front porch. Not to do anything big or particularly special. I wasn’t talking. It wasn’t to say anything or even for any specific event or person. It was just to listen to all the ol’ voices I used to hear, or ignore or be bored by a lot of the time. It’s a twisted irony I guess - youth being so wasted on the young. I miss that opportunity. I think we all do. There is a way though. There is peace in this kind of life.
Some people have Jesus. Some people have God. Others have the Universe, or other gods. We all - one way or another - had Granny. And we were all listened to, and laughed at, sung to and gently guided. We were all lucky and loved. Thank you. We’ll keep trying to deserve it.
