One of my first memories is the sight and smell (oh what a strong smell it was!) of warm milk freshly milked from a nearby goat handed to me in a small enameled cup. I was a bit hesitant to drink it, as I‘ve never tried anything like it before and didn’t know the woman handing me the cup. I saw her for the first time in my 4 or 5 year old life. But my grandma stood by me and encouraged me with her smile and a hand gesture to not be afraid and give it a try. I remember the taste being strong, a bit overwhelming, and I’m not sure if I enjoyed it. Yet I was proud of myself for trying something new and learning a bit more about the world around me. This was the first memory, but there were so many more to follow - my grandma being the lighthouse of my childhood adventures. Always there: gently pushing to explore and learn on my own, keeping a never ending supply of chocolates in her drawer if life proved to be not as sweet as I expected.
She passed away last Saturday in her sleep, aged 91. She wasn’t in pain, and was very ready for it - as much as anyone can be ready. Everything in her passing was as expected and natural as the change of seasons. Knowing that she was ready and calm made me think even more how much grief is about us more than the person who just passed away. We tend to imagine our lives as separate, singular lines, sometimes crossing other people’s paths. But this time I saw it as a colorful tapestry made of so many different threads - each representing a person in our life. Once they die or disappear in some way, this thread ends - and a part of you ends with it as well. Yet it‘s important to know how and when to let go, as heartbreaking as it may be.
I discovered this song not long before I learned about my grandma’s severe condition last week, and it brought me much needed comfort and helped accept the inevitable:
You know I wanna hold you close
But sometimes love is letting go
The moon won‘t ever tell the sun that it can‘t rise
And if there‘s one thing that I know
Love is loosing all control
But if you have to leave
Then I‘ll leave on the light
I’m not religious, so I don’t have hope for an afterlife where we would meet, but at the same time I feel that this end is not THE end. I know that the grandma thread of my life is ended, but at the same time it shines through - her lessons, her love and the memories we shared will stay with me. Hope and love remains, as cheesy as this may sound.
During the Easter weekend I read an interview on hope with a Polish psychologist Bartłomiej Dobroczyński. He points out, based on works by Erich Fromm and bell hooks, that both love and hope are not mere feelings, they’re actions. Emotions are brief, they come and go. Love is focused on giving, rather than receiving. It’s making a decision, taking an action - continuously everyday. Which brings me to one of my favorite quotes on love:
Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; re-made all the time, made new.
Ursula K. Le Guin
Dr Dobroczyński goes on to say that love is the foundation of hope and brings up a documentary about emperor penguins he watched recently (he doesn’t mention the title but my guess would be that it’s March of the Penguins). The extraordinary measures these animals have to take to hatch the egg and raise the newborn chick are against all odds: extreme weather, scarcity of food and protection. To achieve this task is almost impossible, and yet it happens over and over again. He concludes: we can learn from these penguins to choose action instead of despair. Taking risks is an essential part of life. The only way to live is to be adventurous - and that’s the lesson my grandma gave me at the steaming enameled cup of fresh goat milk.
Your stories
I asked on my Instagram to share your stories connected with your grandmas, here are some that were shared with me:
I called my grandma „mama” bcs this is how much she loved us all. True matriarch.
A constant economical and/or emotional support of all my projects and ideas
My grandma tries to connect with me desperately but due to family trauma it’s hard for me
The only post-birth relationship was with my great grandma, spoiling me with my dream toys
My mother is awful, but I was lucky and grew up with my grandparents. So they are my heroes.
I know I can be loved because my grandma was in my life
My grandma became my mom, as my birth mom wasn’t ready to raise me. Grateful for her fighter soul.
My grandma is my everything. She is my role model and I wish I can be as powerful and resilient as her.
What a beautiful portrait you have given us of your grandmother, your connection with her and your thoughts on grief.. 🌿 Much love to you dear Monika xxxxx 💛
So sorry for your loss! If you’re interested and feel like it – I wrote some pieces on my own grief, you can find them on my profile.
My grandma is probably the coolest grandma. Like really. Using a mobile phone, writing messages on WhatsApp and even putting a picture every now and then in her story. She is old on paper but her mind is so much younger.
When my mum passed away almost nine years ago (how did time pass so quickly), my grandma became my second mum. She’s the one I ask for advice now.
So happy that she is still in such a good shape but in the same moment I’m so afraid of losing her one day.