Friday, December 30, 2016

"I'm so proud of you. I love you."

The day after my dad's 18th birthday, his mom passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack when she was only 55. Several years later my grandfather remarried my grandmother, Gigi-- my only grandparent who was able to watch me grow up. I know that Granddaddy married Gigi for her good heart, smart wit, and her clear blue eyes, but he unknowingly gifted me with my precious grandmother who loved me as her own, and ironically was the one who helped me get to know Granddaddy, who lost his brilliant mind to Alzheimer's when we were both too young. I know he was lucky to have Gigi as his wife, but I've always counted myself luckier to have had her as my grandmother.

Gigi passed away peacefully last night, with her hands clasped in prayer, after 95 full years of life. 

As a little girl I remember eating slice after slice of her homemade buttermilk pie, climbing up the big apricot tree in their front yard to pick all of the fruit, hunting Easter eggs in her beautiful garden, and scavenging arrowheads from the canyon behind my grandparents' home. She taught my brother and I how to play Bridge, what life was like during the Dust Bowl, the Great Depression, and WWII, and that eating your dessert first is always the right choice. 

As we grew up, I watched her lovingly and patiently care for my grandfather as he forgot his stories, his sweet-tooth, our names, and our faces. She loved to retell their love story, full of weekend dances at the Dalhart Country Club, building their dream home together, and weekly attendance at the Methodist church. Each time she spoke of Granddaddy she adamantly repeated that they "never shared a cross word" throughout all of the decades they were married, each time attributing the ease and happiness of their marriage to his goodness. "Your granddaddy was such a good, good man." I can hear her say it. 

She missed him deeply-- a deepness that never seemed to shrink with time. In the days before her death she had periods of lucidity-- ones when she shared in my excitement for our baby boy over the phone, and also dreamlike times when she spoke out-loud of her Hawaiian honeymoon with "Doc," as she called my granddad. The one where the 65-year-old lovebirds waded too far into the pacific ocean and the waves swept Gigi's bikini top away so Granddaddy wrapped her in a beach towel and carried her out of the waves.

Gigi lived each day fully and loved her friends and family well. I am reminded of the old Scottish hymn, "Abide With Me," when I think of her passing. "I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless; ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness. Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory? I triumph still, if Thou abide with me. Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes; Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies. Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee; In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me." 

I'll conclude my thoughts the same way that she always ended our phone calls for her sentiments towards me and the same ones I have for her. Gigi, "I'm so proud of you. I love you. Bye-bye now."

Half Orange Photography

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