A version of the Thank You - I Miss You - Thinking of You - I Love You
card I wish I could send to Heaven.
We said goodbye to my maternal Grandmother, Barbara Harrington, this weekend. In her eternally considerate fashion, she passed on March 13, 2020 – just a day or two before nursing homes and hospice care were locked down to outside visitors. We were all able to spend her last days and hours at her bedside rather than worried about her from afar.
She was looking out for us until the very end.
She was the matriarch of our family. She was mother of twelve, Grammie and Great-Gram to over fifty more, some of whom she helped to raise within the walls of her own home as a second parent. She brought us all together time after time, year after year, for celebrations and summer days at the pool, Christmas parties and lobster bakes.
It always fascinates me to hear about different perspectives and experiences of a single person. My grandmother is no exception. The one-hundred or so of us (safely distanced) at her “private” service shared collective memories, but also unique stories and individual views on the life my Gram lived.
To her children she was a constant. A source of strength and generosity. A shoulder to cry on. A model of unwavering faith and devotion. A second mother to their children.
To her grandchildren she embodied grace under pressure. Even with dozens of little feet pattering around her house at any given time, she managed to put Saturday morning pancakes on the table with a genuine smile. She embraced our chaos and encouraged our individuality. We relished her wisdom. We turned to her for comfort.
To her great-grandchildren she was a kind and doting nurturer. Those privileged enough to spend significant time with her admired her resiliency and joie de vivre that lasted all the way through her ninety-plus years. Nothing made her happier than new babies. Nothing made her prouder than her family.
My Gram expressed to my Mother once later in her life that she wished she were “closer” to my siblings and me. She confessed that she had envied the relationship that we shared with my late Nana, my Dad’s mother, who both lived five minutes down the road from us, and also had *only* ten grandchildren among whom she distributed her attention.
This comment has stuck with me, because my Gram had such a remarkable way of making each of us feel special and important to her throughout her life. A phone-call on every birthday, complete with a music-box rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Cards (and cash!) for every occasion, St. Patrick’s Day included. Shopping trips for back to school and one-on-one lunch dates. She made it all special. And she did this for all of us, all thirty-two grandchildren, and ultimately twenty additional great-grandchildren, for every birthday, for every occasion. I wrote about this in some notes before the service on Saturday, and my Aunt Joyce gave a gorgeous eulogy that captured my sentiment exactly:
Gram had an uncanny way of making each of us feel “seen.”
In many ways, I have turned out very unlike my Grandmother. The life I live looks quite different than the one my Gram had chosen and cultivated for herself. She was married with children by age twenty, settled happily in the same corner of the world in which she was raised. I spent my twenties as an ambitious nomad, prioritizing career and fun over love and family. My grandmother watched my decision making with pride, never questioning when I would “settle down,” never asking about a husband or children, never expecting me to fit into any version of a life other than the one I was intentionally creating for myself.
Despite our differences on the surface, she paved that path for me, and for all of us.
Gram was both a traditional woman on the surface, and a fierce progressive in the way she raised her family and loved her neighbors. She was a proud homemaker who stretched a penny like it was an Olympic sport, while also spoiling her loved ones beyond comprehension. She identified as a conservative Catholic, but she raised a bunch of hippies. Her quiet strength defined her, and her gratitude and grace infused every aspect of her being.
As I have grown older and started to build a family of my own over the past few years, I have felt myself growing closer to her and understanding her more and more each day.
Our lives may look different, but our values have always looked the same.
When I feel frustrated with my (one) child, I often call upon the patience she must have summoned with twelve children all under age sixteen. When I feel adrift in life, I channel her unwavering faith in God and her devotion to her family. When I feel weary about the state of the world, I recall the special ability she had – passed along to my Mother – to always, always see the good in people. When I feel purposeless, I find new ways to implement her commitment to service to others. When I feel hurt, I ask her to strengthen me with the gifts of forgiveness and understanding that she bestowed upon all of us without question.
My Grandmother, like all of those who truly loved us here on Earth, continues to be a steadfast force in my life, which will continue long after her passing. She is present in my heart, in my thoughts, and in the lessons I will teach my children. I laugh at her lamentation, at wanting to be closer to me. Oh, Gram, that's not even possible.
My Grammie is woven through the tapestry of everything I know, everything I believe. My Grandmother was many things to many people, but to me…
To me, she is both everything I am, and everything I hope to be.
Love you Gram,
CJK
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