Wednesday, December 02, 2015

The Great One

My paternal grandmother passed away last week. When I was in the third grade, I won a county-wide essay contest for an essay I wrote about why she was my hero. This is the eulogy I wrote for her funeral.

About ten years ago, I called my grandmother and asked her what she was doing. She told me that she had just come back from the funeral home because she was planning her funeral. When I responded in shock, she said, “Don’t worry…You’re invited!” I’m really glad to see all of you received an invitation as well.

You see, that’s how my grandmother was. She had a quick wit and a great sense of humor. Most of my memories of her involve lots of laughter and joking, and from the stories I’ve heard all of you share over the past few days, I think yours do too.

But having a great sense of humor only made me think of all the other ways she was great. My grandmother was part of the Greatest Generation, the generation whose lives were shaped by growing up when our country was engaged in World War II. She and my grandfather only went on a couple of dates before grandpa left for the war. But for over two years, he wrote her constantly, professing his love and stating his dreams for their future. She told me about these letters many times over the years, but it wasn’t until I was able to see them…read them…that I truly understood how much of who she was came back to this time.

The Greatest Generation is known for a couple of things. They are known for their perseverance and courage. My grandfather wrote her every few days. I remember telling her once how romantic I thought it was that grandpa wrote so much, and in her usual joking manner, she told me she thought he was crazy. They barely knew each other, after all. But the more we talked about it, the more I realized that this was part of her perseverance and courage. She told me many times what a scary time it was because you never knew who was coming home and who wasn’t. I think this fear, this need to be courageous, is part of what made her into the strong, independent woman she was. She knew that no matter who came home from the war, she had to survive. She had to live. She had to thrive. And live and thrive she did.

It’s no secret that I idolized my grandmother. When I was a kid and she would visit us in New Jersey, she would always stay in my room. I would lay in bed at night as she would tell me about all of her travels and adventures. She would tell me about the trips she and my grandfather made, from their cross-country road trip during their honeymoon to their visits to the “old country.” She never missed a chance to remind me how important it was to set foot on Italian soil. And she would laugh as she recalled her adventures with her sister-in-law, seeing the green rolling hills of Ireland to running from a bear in Alaska. I would lay there and listen to these stories, and that’s when I knew that one day I would have to see these same sites with my own eyes…to bring to life the stories being told by my idol…to have the courage to take risks like she did…to be great, like she was.

But her love of travel wasn’t the only example of her courage and sense of spirit. It was also in her day-to-day life. When video games became popular, she was the first one I knew to master the art of Dr. Mario. I remember my friends being in awe that my grandmother was willing to hang out and challenge us to a game. And for her 70th birthday, she wanted to go ice skating. And while I distinctly remember the rest of us clumsily making our way around the rink trying to stay upright on our skates, she was beaming while doing figure eights around us. Or what about all of the years we spent at the Dude Ranch? I was fairly young at the time and had had a bad experience on a horse, but as I watched her climb into the saddle, I knew that I needed to have the same courage as her. I think being a part of the Greatest Generation instilled in her the belief to never take life for granted…to live each second…to find the great in each moment.

Members of the Greatest Generation are also known for their loyalty and faithful commitments. And to know my grandmother was to know that she was fiercely loyal. Have you ever watched a Yankees game with her? When I was working at UMass Amherst, she was visiting me during a Yankees/Red Sox game. I had to pull her off of my balcony because she was yelling at the students around my apartment who were chanting for Boston. I had to laugh as she told me that it was her responsibility to educate them on who was the superior baseball team. She was a great woman; clearly she needed to cheer for a great team.

And aside from the Yankees, there was nothing to which she was more faithful than her family. Yes, she was a member of the Greatest Generation, but I think this is where she had her greatest impact. This was her greatest adventure. Because when I think about my grandmother, aside from all the laughter and all of the fun, I think of family.

She was a daughter. She was a sister. She was an aunt. That is the family from which she came. But I am most in awe of the family that she created. As I said, my grandmother was funny, independent, courageous, full of life. Well, so are we. She loved each of us with all of her heart and thanks to that love, we are who we are today. I see it in her three children. They each have a piece of her humor, her perseverance, her loyalty. I see it in the love they have for her, holding her hand until her last breath. But I also see it in how each of them has created their own families – my brother and my cousins. One of our favorite arguments to have is who is grandma’s favorite. We each have a story of the time she assured us that it was us. She found it so funny to watch us bicker about it, but I think it’s a testament to how much we all love her and how much love she instilled in each of us. Because I think the truth is that we were each her favorite and for very different reasons. She may have been part of the Greatest Generation, but in her eyes, we were all great. And while my cousins and I know that nothing could brighten her day as quickly as when her two grandsons walked in the door, I know that nothing made her happier than the fact that her granddaughters are all strong, independent, funny women, just like her. And even more fitting that her family now consists of three great granddaughters. How great is that?

Perseverance. Courage. Loyalty. These might be traits of the Greatest Generation, but they are at the core of who my grandmother was. That, of course, and her sense of humor. The last day that I spent with her, she asked me why I was in town. I told her I was going to run a half marathon. She said to me, “A half marathon? Are you too lazy to run the whole thing?” I could only laugh and shake my head.


Today, we say goodbye to a woman who made each of us a little better; who made each of us laugh a little louder; who made each of us live a little fuller. She truly was the great one, and she will be greatly missed.

Tuesday, October 06, 2015

Still Too Soon

Three years ago, I sat in front of the computer staring at the clock thinking, "How did one year go by already? It's just too soon." Each year since, I've tried to make new meaning of this day, but each time, all I could think was, "It's still too soon." And here I am again, in front a different computer staring at a similar clock without a new message. It's still too damn soon.

I just reread that post from three years ago and all of those words still hold true. Not a day goes by that my mom isn't on my mind. My first instinct is always to share news with her, and I still reach for the phone to call her. And while missing her and coping with the pain of her absence has become my new normal, there is nothing normal about how soon she was taken from us. And four years later, it still feels too soon.

In the three years since I last found the energy to sit down and reflect on this day, too many times I have gotten word that someone I know was living the same hell of losing a parent too soon. Too many times I've had to pick up the phone to help someone I care about navigate this new normal; the same way the handful of people in my life have done the similar for me. And it's amazing what a knowing text or hug or post can mean during the times when their absence hits you the hardest. Because even though it's been four years, it's still too soon.

On her birthday this year, my brother brought me to a place of simultaneous hysterical crying and laughter in a way that only he can. As we were talking, he was reflecting on a pretty big life moment from that day, and he said, "I just keep thinking about how pumped mom would be. You know she'd have her tool box packed and ready to go." And the visual of our always-eager-to-help mom and her ability to handle any task, holding her tool box (yes, she did have her own tool box) with a big smile on her face made me crumble. Between the tears and the laughter, I was stuck somewhere between feeling so amused and so heartbroken. It's still too soon.

So have I learned anything in these four years? Well, I still hold true to the heart my words from her eulogy to look for her in the little moments of life. I see her in new friends who have entered our lives who I know she would love with her whole heart. How is it possible that these folks haven't met her? Don't know that smile or her laugh? I also see her in each of us. As we continue to grow and take on new adventures, I feel her presence guiding us. And I see her in the difficult moments too. Mostly, during those moments, I assume she's shaking her head and laughing, saying, "I told you so." And I still tear up at the beautiful parts of nature that were her favorites - the crashing ocean waves during a hurricane, a spider I can't bring myself to kill or a wonderfully, gnarly tree. Her and her damn trees. It's still too soon.

Four years ago after she took her last breath, I stood on the front porch hugging my niece staring at the night sky. We both cried knowing that we had lost her too soon. Tonight, I'm 3000 miles away from my niece, but as she and I were talking, I felt mom's presence again. It's because of her we love so unconditionally. It's because of her that we feel so deeply. And it's because of her that we see the beauty in each day even though it's still too soon.

Oh, and it might also be because of her that we each have our own tool box.