Her love

Her love hangs around my neck in the strand of pearls she gifted me when I turned eighteen. Her love covers the bed of my oldest daughter in the quilt she made for my twenty-first birthday. Her love decorates my walls in the cross stitched art she made when I was born and then when each of my babies were born. Her love is written in the cards I have received at every single birthday and Christmas. Her love is in me, a part of me, as it has always been my whole life.

I remember learning that she graduated from Northwestern University at a time when not very many women graduated from college, let alone with a major in mathematics. I remember hearing of how she worked during World War II and how she worked as a young mother. I remember listening to stories of how she continued to make time for her hobbies and interests while raising three children. I remember being told of how she picked up and moved from Ohio to Michigan to Connecticut to Brazil to Argentina to Uruguay to Italy to Texas, supporting her husband and recreating her home in every new place.

I remember spending a week with just her and my sister as we floated on a boat down the Snake River when I was thirteen.

I remember when she flew to Indiana to see me star in Annie, Jr., at my middle school. She gave me my first bouquet of flowers.

I remember when she flew to Utah to see me graduate from college. She could have stayed at a nice hotel, but instead she squeezed in with us in our small apartment. We kicked Jeff into the family room with his family who were also visiting, and she and I shared the bed.

I remember when she flew to Brazil to see my family and enjoy being in that country again. She even went horseback riding at 94 years old.

I remember when she flew to Mexico to see Gordon right after he was born. Her husband's name was Gordon. She played with my older kids and let me rest.

I remember the last time I saw her. She still knew who I was. I didn't know then it would be the last time I would see her. I got to hold her and have her hold me. I got to tell her I loved her, and I knew she loved me. I am so grateful for this.

I was blessed to have her as my grandmother for 34 years. She died today. She was 99. She lived from 1920 to 2019.

She showed me what it could mean to be a woman, to be a mother, to be an explorer, to be a Christian, to be a hostess, to be a friend. She was an example of valuing connections, of keeping people in your life through the years, of continuing to learn and volunteer and live regardless of age.

I would love to be told that I am like her.

If you had the opportunity have known her, then you were lucky.

I had 34 years, and selfishly, I wish I could have had more. You know what else I wish? I wish I could be there, cleaning out closets, looking through documents, folding up sheets, and putting away a life. I wish I could hold my aunt who dedicated so much of her life to taking care of her mother. I wish I could hug my uncle and console my father who just lost their mom. I wish I could be there, crying with you, because she's gone, and celebrating with you, because what a life. What a life! Grandma had an amazing life.

Marcia as a baby 

Marcia as a teen

Marcia as a bride

 Marcia as a mom

Marcia as a grandma

Marcia as a great-grandma

Grandma, you were always proud of me, and I have been so very impressed by you. I wish you would be here to see who I continue to be, where I will go, and what I will accomplish.

I didn't get to choose how much time we had together.

But I am grateful for all of the time that I spent with you.