What a gal

Today would have been my grandmother’s 95^th birthday. I think of Hester Clarence Green more and more every day – and I’ve always thought of her quite a bit. But since I’ve been here I’ve noticed more and more resemblances between our characters: our penchant for traveling, our love of laughter, and being totally, completely okay with doing something alone. I’d hope to think I have her resilient optimism, but check back in with me in 70 years.

A lot of people grow bitter with age, and if Grandma had, I don’t think anyone would have blamed her. But her tough exterior cracked and softened over the years to reveal a gentle sunniness that was so genuine, it must have been there along.

I was so thankful to be there for the service in October. Yes, it could have waited. No, I didn’t HAVE to be there but I realized after the fact how important it was for closure. It’s important to get together in a big room and say, hey, I cared about this person, I’m going to miss this person. This person was here with us physically for 94 years and now they’re not and I feel that.

A death out of season is so tragic, brings up so many questions, pierces us again and again, that it’s almost impossible for funerals to not be somber. But a funeral for someone who made 94 years' worth of people laugh, who, even pushing her walker around was sheer LIGHT, whose last lucid words were, "Well, it looks like the end of the run..." That really does feel like a celebration of life. That brings up other questions, like: how do I get to be THERE? (Grandma would say a glass of milk a day.)

Whatever you chalk it up to, it’s quite a feat to live that long and then fill a conference room with people of all ages who cared, who are going to miss you, who wished you didn’t have to leave.

A few years ago, I asked her the secret to a happy life. She turned kinda thoughtful and said, “To have people that you love who love you too.”

I wish she didn’t have to leave, but oh, what wealth she left in her wake.