I sat down to write today, and nothing came out. I’m still not sure what I’m going to say. We’ll find out together.
I lost my fourth (and final) grandparent this morning. She was a wonderful woman and a truly good-hearted soul.
Grams raised her own five boys but acted as a mother (and grandmother) to many others who needed her. She had eleven grandkids. 13 great-grandkids (and another on the way). She truly built a legacy.
I hear so much chatter about “legacies” and “making it” these days. And it feels like everyone means something different when they use those phrases. I can’t confidently say how Grams would have defined them. I never thought to ask her.
I do know that Grams found her greatest joys in family. In watching all of us grow up and raise our own. It was an unspoken rule that when you found out you were pregnant, Grams was let it on the secret early, because damn did she love to see our family grow.
She was so happy when I told her James was on the way. And again, two years later, with Ellie. Grams loves all her grandkids and great-grandkids so much, but after five boys, she had a sweet spot for the little girls of the next generation.
So, while I can’t say for certain how Grams would have defined legacy, I do believe she built an astounding one for herself. They say those who touch the most people have the widest influence in the world. The teachers. The doctors. The grandmothers.
Grams touched the world by mothering it. By the joy she found in all of us. By the values and devotion to family she instilled in her boys, and which they, in turn, instilled in us. And in the ways we strive to pass these values down to our own children.
As I tuck my own children into bed tonight and retrieve them after what will undoubtedly be an incomplete night of sleep, I’ll think of Grams. Of the countless bedtimes and breakfasts of her lifetime. Of all the children who would’ve become different people without her.
I’ll remember how she never failed to make us smile, even when she wasn’t feeling her best. How she always slipped a little bit of extra fun into our time spent together — Whether it was dying the ice cubes green on St. Paddy’s day or sending us each a personal picture of her and Grandpa visiting Disney.
Of how she always made sure to buy a Boston Cream Doughnut when she got a variety pack for everyone else, because they were my favorite. Or how she never missed a Nutcracker ballet performance, or a graduation, or even the silly little parade when I was homecoming queen.
Of how she always got everyone together on Christmas Eve, and all eleven of us grandchildren continued to make the drive every year well into adulthood with our own families. How important that was to me. The Christmas secret santa pick. The singing Santas and the angels that decorated her home (not just around the holidays).
I could list so many memories of Grams, but I think I’ve said all that was important to say.
Grams was the epitome of a grandmother, and grandparent, raising her children in a way that allowed them to raise their own, to raise their own. It’s the cycle of generations. We are all a tribute to her.
I’ll miss Grams dearly, but I know she will live on through her legacy, through every Verneuille and descendant to come.
Rest easy, Grams. Cheers to a lifetime of love.
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