Thank You for This Lineage of Strength

Grandma realigned my world. She was always ready to listen, to talk, to laugh, to cry, to eat chocolate, to go shopping, to show up, to believe in me, and to make me feel special. It has been almost one year since she passed away, and my world has been tilted ever since. She was like her favorite Nat King Cole song: “Unforgettable.”

I aim to be darling. Darling was Grandma’s favorite adjective. She used it to describe things she really loved. While shopping, I would try on clothes until she exclaimed “That is darling!” and then we would buy whatever it was (a blouse, dress, skirt, pants) in every color. We would then set out to find some darling shoes to match, jewelry, and maybe a purse.

One day, Grandma got into my car and saw my lei hanging around my rearview mirror, “This is darling!” she said pointing at it. A few weeks later, we got into her car, and she had a lei hanging around her rearview mirror, “How darling!” I said.

Several years later, when I gave birth to my first daughter, Grandma came to the hospital to meet her. She walked into the room, leaned over the bassinet, and whispered, “Oh! Isn’t she darling!”

My mom says the most magical sound of her childhood was listening to her mom, grandma, and aunt tee-heeing in the kitchen together. Grandma’s laugh was infectious. If I am being honest, though, it was much more of a guffaw than a tee-hee. It wasn’t hard to make Grandma laugh, she laughed all the time. She would throw her head back, slap her knee, and laugh and laugh. She made everyone feel like they were hilarious. I admit to embellishing some of the stories I told her just so I could hear her giggle.

Grandma was extremely friendly. When I lived with her during college, we hopped into her car to get something to eat. Grandma drove past the college campus on our way. While we were driving past, Grandma noticed the cross-country boys team running along the side of the road. She slowed the car, rolled down my window, and started introducing me to each boy as they ran by. I ended up on the car floor trying to hide my face. Grandma was unphased and kept waving and smiling at them.

Chatting with Grandma was my favorite thing to do—conversation was her love language. I adored talking with her not necessarily because of what she had to say, but how she listened to what I had to say. She was genuinely interested in my life and how I truly felt about things. She always agreed with my opinions and took my side in every predicament. I felt lighter and happier after every visit with her.

One year for my birthday, Grandma gave me a special gift. A picture frame of six generations of my maternal grandmothers beginning with a picture of my great-great-great grandmother and ending with a picture of me. Grandma said she wanted me to know about the strong women who came before me. The picture frame hangs on my wall, and I like to look at it and think of them looking down on me from Heaven.

As I learned more about their lives, I wondered how I would ever live up to their legacy. They were talented, hard-working women. They bore many children, had beautiful singing voices, sewed clothes and quilts, baked six loaves of bread every day, and helped others in need. I didn’t have those talents. Was I even like them? It wasn’t until recently that I realized what I had inherited from them. I inherited their heart. The kind of heart that realigns the world for their families, just like Grandma.