Earlier tonight, at the age of 95, my beloved grandmother passed away...
I am so sad. Honestly, I don’t know how to put into words how I am feeling. I knew this was coming. I know she is in a better place. I know it is for the best. But, I am still sad. And instead of dwelling on the sad, I am going to dwell on how great she was.
My grandmother had a greater life than many of us can ever dream of having. Not because of what she had, but be cause of who she was. She lived everyday to the fullest, not like it was her last, but like it was her next. Like it was her destiny. Because it was.
My grandmother taught me that family is the most important thing. Not only the family you are born too. Sure, that was important and there was no greater source of pride for Baba then her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. But she taught me the importance of the family you surround yourself with. The friends who choose to be your family. The ones who love you by choice not by birth. She taught me this through all the stories. The stories about people I will never meet. People who I met but don’t remember. People she spent her life with. People she brought joy.
There are a lot of things that come to mind when you think of my grandmother. She lived many different lives. She was a world traveler. She was a teacher. She was a faithful believer. She was a friend. But, I will always think of her as the head of our family. The constant in all of our lives that brought my aunts and uncles and cousins from around the country, together. We loved her. And because of her, we loved each other.
For her 95th birthday, I rallied the family to share some of their favorite “Baba” stories. We all put a few stories down on index cards and presented them to her. The last time I saw her, my last visit home, we read through them together and laughed. There are so many. The trips to Europe. The lessons she would teach us. The silly weekends. And one told of the time she gave my cousin money towards her wedding if her fiance would cut his hair past his shoulder.
That was who my grandmother was. She was loving. She was sweet. She was honest. My grandmother was one of those women you hear about in stories. A woman who was both proper and feisty. A woman who was both exceptional and a little bit of trouble. A woman who could get you to do what she wanted, all while making you think she was doing you a favor.
I will miss my grandmother desperately, not only for the things she did for me, but for the example she set and for the person she required me to become. I hope I can remember her everyday and strive to be a little better in her memory.