This, our first blog of 2009 - can you believe it!?!?! I want to dedicate to my Grandma-Next-Door who died this past February leaving behind her a legacy of love. Grandma became Grandma-Next-Door because since the day I was born until I moved to Italy she's always lived right next door! She generously poured her life into mine and my family and will always be treasured in our hearts.
A letter to Grandma-Next-Door:
Dear Grandma-Next-Door,
I miss you very much. Today, I must admit, was a very hard day; a sad day; to have the reality sink in that I won’t be able to hug you again… but then, in the middle of my grief, I realized that you wouldn’t like it at all to see me in such a sad state! So, I began doing some of the things I know would make you happy; the things we would have done together had you been here.
First, Zeno and I picked out some flowers. Beautiful, vibrant in color, perfumed, and alive – just like you! Then, I made myself a cup of tea. Oh, Grandma! Do you remember our first tea-parties? You conversed with my dolls and stuffed animals as if they were the grandest ladies of the land. We would put on our imitation “proper British accents” and point our pinkies while we sipped our tea (my tea started out looking suspiciously like Ovaltine until I turned about eight-years-old and then I had a little tea with my milk).
After that, a little pampering – Zeno and I went to the gym. That’s not very much like me! You’re thinking, ah, but here’s the catch: we completely skipped all the work-out areas and headed directly to the sauna/relax area. Ahhhhhh… I could feel your smile of approval as the stresses of the day melted from our shoulders. Relax, calm… Just like our Grandma-Granddaughter shopping trips, the criteria for a good purchase were these three simple things: softness, beauty and scent. And I learned those criteria well didn’t I? There came a point, once I’d grown up a bit, that you had to begin censoring the fine tuned tastes you’d helped me acquire because I developed the uncanny knack for walking directly to the most expensive item in the shop!
Grandma, you spoiled me rotten… and the marvelous thing is that I think you enjoyed it almost more than me! But your generosity went much deeper than a lovely new skirt – you loved me inside-out, upside-down and backwards. I remember when I was a little girl, I was sick a lot and had to have a few surgeries. Crazy as it sounds, I sometimes looked forward to those sick days because I knew Grandma would be coming to me as soon as she could to bring treats and little play things, to read me stories and tell about your life’s adventures. I specifically remember when I was just able to begin eating again after one of my mouth surgeries you brought me a French-baguette. Probably due to you, I was fascinated with Europe and so you brought me a real French-baguette, my first one ever, and told me about some of your travels in France. That was wonderful. Though, you knew well, that my greatest fascination was with Venice, Italy.
The city that floated on the water and was the birthplace of the first completely female orchestra as well as one of my favorite composers: Vivaldi. In 2005, when I finally had the chance to visit Italy, to visit Venice, you were the inspiration of my delight. And, when I fell in love with my Amore – my marvelous Zeno, you were the most delighted of all! You happily took all the blame, along with Grandpa, for being the author of a friendship that led to my discovering God’s precious and perfect gift of love to me in my Amore Zeno. And in the love that Zeno and I share I rejoice every day. Now, when I miss you, I have only to hug my Amore and know that you are alive in the love that we are living.
I will remember for my whole life some of the last words you spoke to me. I’d come into the room where you were resting, looking lovely and calm, gracious and beautiful even in the face of death. I sat on the edge of your bed and you woke up a bit. You reached out for my hands and took them between yours and said with tears in your eyes,
“Zeno loves you so very much doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” I said nodding and leaning closer because your voice was weak and quiet, just a whisper, “Yes, he does Grandma”.
“And you love him so, so, sooo very much don’t you?”
“Oh Grandma, I do, I love him so very, very much” I replied.
You squeezed my hands and rested comfortably back against your pillows smiling. “I’m happy”, you said, “I’m happy. That’s all I need to know.” And you held my hands as you closed your eyes to rest again.
That’s all I need to know too Grandma. That the love God has given us conquers even death. And it does. And that’s all I need to know. And I’m so inexplicably blessed to share that love with you. Thank you for inspiring my life with the beauty, passion, and love of your own. I miss you Grandma, but you’re not truly gone, you’re here in my heart still. I love you Grandma.
Yours forever, ‘Manda
I miss you very much. Today, I must admit, was a very hard day; a sad day; to have the reality sink in that I won’t be able to hug you again… but then, in the middle of my grief, I realized that you wouldn’t like it at all to see me in such a sad state! So, I began doing some of the things I know would make you happy; the things we would have done together had you been here.
First, Zeno and I picked out some flowers. Beautiful, vibrant in color, perfumed, and alive – just like you! Then, I made myself a cup of tea. Oh, Grandma! Do you remember our first tea-parties? You conversed with my dolls and stuffed animals as if they were the grandest ladies of the land. We would put on our imitation “proper British accents” and point our pinkies while we sipped our tea (my tea started out looking suspiciously like Ovaltine until I turned about eight-years-old and then I had a little tea with my milk).
After that, a little pampering – Zeno and I went to the gym. That’s not very much like me! You’re thinking, ah, but here’s the catch: we completely skipped all the work-out areas and headed directly to the sauna/relax area. Ahhhhhh… I could feel your smile of approval as the stresses of the day melted from our shoulders. Relax, calm… Just like our Grandma-Granddaughter shopping trips, the criteria for a good purchase were these three simple things: softness, beauty and scent. And I learned those criteria well didn’t I? There came a point, once I’d grown up a bit, that you had to begin censoring the fine tuned tastes you’d helped me acquire because I developed the uncanny knack for walking directly to the most expensive item in the shop!
Grandma, you spoiled me rotten… and the marvelous thing is that I think you enjoyed it almost more than me! But your generosity went much deeper than a lovely new skirt – you loved me inside-out, upside-down and backwards. I remember when I was a little girl, I was sick a lot and had to have a few surgeries. Crazy as it sounds, I sometimes looked forward to those sick days because I knew Grandma would be coming to me as soon as she could to bring treats and little play things, to read me stories and tell about your life’s adventures. I specifically remember when I was just able to begin eating again after one of my mouth surgeries you brought me a French-baguette. Probably due to you, I was fascinated with Europe and so you brought me a real French-baguette, my first one ever, and told me about some of your travels in France. That was wonderful. Though, you knew well, that my greatest fascination was with Venice, Italy.
The city that floated on the water and was the birthplace of the first completely female orchestra as well as one of my favorite composers: Vivaldi. In 2005, when I finally had the chance to visit Italy, to visit Venice, you were the inspiration of my delight. And, when I fell in love with my Amore – my marvelous Zeno, you were the most delighted of all! You happily took all the blame, along with Grandpa, for being the author of a friendship that led to my discovering God’s precious and perfect gift of love to me in my Amore Zeno. And in the love that Zeno and I share I rejoice every day. Now, when I miss you, I have only to hug my Amore and know that you are alive in the love that we are living.
I will remember for my whole life some of the last words you spoke to me. I’d come into the room where you were resting, looking lovely and calm, gracious and beautiful even in the face of death. I sat on the edge of your bed and you woke up a bit. You reached out for my hands and took them between yours and said with tears in your eyes,
“Zeno loves you so very much doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” I said nodding and leaning closer because your voice was weak and quiet, just a whisper, “Yes, he does Grandma”.
“And you love him so, so, sooo very much don’t you?”
“Oh Grandma, I do, I love him so very, very much” I replied.
You squeezed my hands and rested comfortably back against your pillows smiling. “I’m happy”, you said, “I’m happy. That’s all I need to know.” And you held my hands as you closed your eyes to rest again.
That’s all I need to know too Grandma. That the love God has given us conquers even death. And it does. And that’s all I need to know. And I’m so inexplicably blessed to share that love with you. Thank you for inspiring my life with the beauty, passion, and love of your own. I miss you Grandma, but you’re not truly gone, you’re here in my heart still. I love you Grandma.
Yours forever, ‘Manda
