In memory of my grandmother

Dear Halmoni,

Although people will say, “She lived a long, good life,” I wish you were still here. I wish I had been able to see you one more time, hold your hand, and tell you what a wonderful childhood you helped give me.

We used to go to your house in the summers and winters. I often tell people that my time visiting you and my other grandmothers were like an idealized world of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, with farm life and clean, clear streams you could drink from, and kids running around, getting into the kind of good, clean fun that ends up in cuts, scrapes, dirty clothes, and memories to last a lifetime.

I remember still, after three decades, sitting in your lap and making you clap. I remember all the pictures of us you had posted on your wall. I remember the treats you had tucked away in the back of your lower drawer and in your pockets every time we came to visit. I remember your paper-thin skin and marveling at how fragile it looked. I couldn’t wait until I was your age and had all the dignity and fragile beauty that only age and hard-fought wisdom could bring.

You raised your kids — my father, my uncles, and my aunts — and fostered several family-less children over the decades, all on your own, a strong matriarch, a strong business woman, a kind grandmother. I know that despite all the differences my father and his siblings may have had over the years with each other(and what big family doesn’t?), they were 100% united in their love and devotion to you.

I remember playing in your front yard. I thought it was the biggest and coolest garden ever. My mom still has a picture of my sister and me playing around one of the trees in the front. I remember it well. I remember finding some secret corners of the garden that I thought no one else would ever know. I remember the feeling of being surrounded by beautiful nature, being alone yet fully a part of the world around me. I associate all these feelings with you.

I remember your outhouse! I thought it was the scariest place on earth, especially at night, with no lights on! 😀

I remember you calling us your little puppies. There were so many of us kids during the summers! Undoubtedly, we yipped around and bothered you, but you were always so patient with us. If I close my eyes now, I can almost perfectly picture your face, your home, your hands. I’ll always remember your hands.

I only wish that things had been really patched up between you and my dad in the recent years… But there is no helping that and no use regretting it. There were years of good memories between you two and I know my dad is broken with grief over your passing.

I also wish that I was sure that I was able to pass on the news that I am pregnant. I told various family members, but I never knew if you had heard. I should have called directly. What a fool I am sometimes. Sometimes, I think there is all the time in the world to pass on news, to tell people I love I love them.

Halmoni, I don’t want to spend time kicking myself. I want to spend time thinking about the lives you touched and the impact you had on my life. I never doubted that women can be strong, independent leaders because I had women like you, my other grandmothers, and my own mother to look to. I didn’t need the words that said, “You can do anything!” because it was so obvious to me from my own family. I didn’t need the words that said, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and just suck it up!” because it was so obvious from seeing all the stuff you’d gone through, seeing what my own parents had gone through in life. I didn’t need the words that said, “Don’t fear growing old,” which a lot of people seem to do, fighting it tooth and nail, because I always knew it was a part of life and that life didn’t end when you were an older person, because you were so involved in life, community, church, and business. And again, you were always so good to us kids.

I heard that when you passed, you listened for the tolling of the church bells in the morning and passed gently, with your family around you. I am so glad.