My Grammy was an incredible woman.Â
Having spent her professional life teaching children with learning disabilities, she had developed the ideal Grammy skill set. She knew how to talk to people, hear and validate their feelings, and guide them towards a better path without them feeling judged for doing so. When she lived with us growing up, this ensured my sister and I always had a safe space to talk about what we were going through. Grammyâs room was always open to us during the day, and when we went to bed each night, it was Grammyâs quilts that kept us warm and her blankets that brought us comfort.
I will always remember the lessons she taught me throughout my life. On my seventh birthday, she wanted to take me to Barnes and Noble to pick out a few books and share her passion of reading with me. As a kid obsessed with video games, I had tried to subvert this plan, but upon realizing my protests were upsetting her, I backed down and went with her anyway. Together, we got the first four books of the Pendragon series, which ended up being a formative series of literature in my younger years whose themes have carried with me to this day.
I gained so much from that single interaction. I learned the importance of gratitude, certainly; bonding with my Grammy that day over something she connected to and cared about was far more valuable than whatever video game I would have played alone would have been. But I also learned about the power of stories and the worlds you can be taken to if you allow your mind to explore them. Without her, I never would have developed the passion that led to my love of writing and world building, both of which were core traits for my career path and future hobbies.
Grammy was a deeply empathetic person. While she preferred to keep to herself - a trait I also tend to share - she maintained her desire to help people in need throughout her life. While my mom taught me the importance of caring for the people youâre close to, my Grammy helped me recognize the need to apply that thinking to a larger scale, kickstarting conversations that would eventually serve as the foundation for my worldview and my focus on taking care of people on a communal, structural level.
My Grammy was my biggest fan as a writer. While she despised most technology and could never understand a video game as complex as League of Legends, she was the first person to read the book I had written on the 2018 World Championship. She didnât need to understand the technical details to understand the interpersonal dynamics that defined the teams I wrote about, and she didnât need to have a passion for the game to be invested in their stories. She cared because she knew I cared, and she cared about me. And to the very end, she was still asking me for the latest âsilly esports storyâ (of which our industry never runs out) during our regular calls.
Throughout my adult life, Grammy remained the rock I could turn to whenever things were hard. She was always there to listen and give her support, reminding me to be kind to myself and instilling trust that Iâd find the answers I needed in the end. Every time I called, weâd talk for at least an hour about every topic under the sun. No matter what we talked about, sheâd always have an interesting perspective I was glad to have heard. And no matter how long weâd talked, thereâd always be at least one more thing that came to mind to keep things going just a little longer.Â
The most incredible part about Grammy is that she was able to form these kinds of connections with everyone in our family. We may have all had different things we bonded over, different passions and connections that made each individual relationship special, but we all shared a special bond and love in our hearts for the Grammy.Â
âGrammy is the bestâ was a universal refrain in our family, and for good reason: she was thoughtful, considerate, caring and kind to each of us whenever we needed her. She may not have sought out many connections outside of our family toward the end of her life, but she made the most out of each one she had. When I asked my family if there was anything theyâd like to add, one refrain stood out: âShe was magicalâ. The way she made all of us feel seen, to make the the troubles that wore us down wash away inâŠhow else can one describe such a gift than magic?
Grammyâs passing was a gut punch unlike anything Iâd ever experienced. I had just seen her at my cousinâs wedding, guiding her through the ceremony and ensuring she had company when her bad knee prevented her from joining the rest of the wedding party. We were meant to all meet up in Colorado in July. Her death was sudden, making it that much harder to process since we had no time to prepare for such an intense loss. Though as much as it hurts to lose her this way, I am thankful she died without suffering, avoiding a prolonged hospital scenario that she would have hated with every fiber of her being.Â
Grammy didnât want a funeral, as she never liked people making a fuss about her. She was far better at helping others than she was at accepting help for herself. But when you put so much love into the world, you should not be surprised when those very people want to give that love back. There was so much to love about Grammy, and so much that we will hold with us for the rest of our lives. I am eternally grateful that she died knowing that, as all of us were all too happy to let her know just how much she meant to us every step of the way.Â
There are no words to describe how much I will miss her. A loss like this is felt from every direction, and the person to whom I could always turn to process tough times like these is no longer there to hear them. I know that there is no number of calls that would ever be enough with someone as special as Grammy was, but there is little I wouldnât do just to talk to her one more time.Â
But though Grammy is gone, she will never be forgotten. The quilts she made for me remain on my bed every night. Her love of stories continues to drive my personal hobbies and professional life. And her deep compassion has shaped me into the person I am today. If you have ever been thankful for me as a friend, you can thank my Grammy for teaching me what true kindness and empathy really means.Â
I will miss you, Grammy, forever and always. Thank you for everything.