My great grandma

     I thought about talking about my great grandma Dee at her memorial, but realized I'd probably end up crying and flustered, and not say anything I meant to. I sound much less crazy when I have the chance to write things down away from others. In fact, writing is really how I got to know my great grandma, despite living nearly 6 hours away.

     In the late 90s and early 2000s, we had a family email address, and the first person I ever emailed was my great grandma Dee. We emailed regularly; she loved that I'd learned to sew very young, and was very happy I was taking piano and dance lessons. She told me how much she loved dancing, but especially music. She told me music runs in our family in the same serious way people tell family members that freckles or red hair do. I told her about kid stuff; school, friends, activities, but she always answered without condescension, as though we were two people on equal footing.

     Dee's always been almost a legend of the family to me, the head chieftain. The first time I remember actually meeting her, I couldn't have been more than 4 years old- if that. I was eating a banana, and went to throw away a bruised bit. "Hey-no! We can make it into banana bread. Save that!" She bagged it and put it into her freezer. Later, as we were leaving, she gave me a small fabric coin purse. That same little purse is in my bag, and there's at least 4 frozen, bruised bananas in my freezer.

     Aside from emails, we visited Dee every couple years, making the 6 hour drive for birthdays and other family events. The drive was always worth it when you got to Dee by the sea and looked out onto the beach with bright spots of people and glittering waves. My own sweet grammo would grab me, "Mom, you remember my granddaughter, Tuesday? Chris' girl?" One time she looked indignant, "Of course, I remember ALL my grandbabies!" 

     If she truly did remember everyone's names, it would be quite a feat- she had not just grandkids, but great-great grandkids, and various friends she adopted as family with their kids. I'm nearing 30 and can't name half of us on my own! Either way, her love was clear, and she usually had a circle of groupies waiting for a chance to chat.

      As a child, Dee seemed hugely imposing. She climbed under garden fences to tend plants, walked down the beach, and seemed very much in command of her world. It's only when I saw her as an adult that I realized how physically small she was; but like a bullet, she had no end of power and speed.

     When I got engaged, both Jax and I lost a lot of friends and family who couldn't deal with the idea of gay marriage. Each time we told an older person, or conservative person, I was waiting, terrified of being rejected again. When my grammo said she'd talked to her mom, I went cold. I truly didn't think I could handle her rejecting me. Luckily, I didn't have to find out. She made a colorful joke, and sent us a toaster oven. I cried. I'm crying now remembering it. She was born in 1917- Of all the people out there using the excuse that"they're a product of their time" we would've understood it with her the most. But she opened her heart and mind to us, and I will forever be thankful for that.

     There are a lot of things I regret: I wish I could've made the trip down there more, I wish I still had those emails from 20 years ago. But there are so many things I'm thankful for: memories, photos, and keepsakes both tangible (coin purse, hippy beads) and intangible (freezer bananas, multiple demin jackets.)

     When you live to be 101, you collect a lot of friends and family along the way. And through us all, she'll live on. When we wear our denim and think of her, hum a song she showed us, sew, play music, or indulge our hippy side. Or when we take a leap of faith, hold tight to our dreams and goals, and use our independent strength, we'll know she's stayed with us, where it matters.