St. Patrick's Day and 101 years of Real Love

 

March 17 is, of course, St. Patrick’s Day! The day we celebrate St. Patrick and Ireland and all things green. We decorate with shamrocks and (hopefully) remember the Trinity…

And in my family….we rejoice in the gift of my Grandmother. She was born on St. Patrick’s

Day 101 years ago. She died 5 years ago, just shy of her 96^th birthday.  But that only makes her birthday that much more of a memorial for me.

I was born into a family of 4 children, all of us within 5 years of each other in age. My parents were super young and super poor when they welcomed us into their lives. My mom was busy, busy, busy keeping up with 4 young children and caring for our home. My dad was building his career. No one had a lot of time or energy to pour into one overly sensitive, very emotional, insecure little girl who was plagued with anxiety and insomnia, even as a small child. No one….except my Grandma.

My Grandma was the one person who truly accepted me for who I was. And, she not only accepted me- with all my crazy emotions and issues but she adored me. She valued me. She delighted in me. Now, Grandma loved ALL kids. She taught “nursery school” for many, many years, volunteered at a special needs pre-school after that, took in foster children, and adored all her 14 grandchildren…but her love for me felt so profound, so authentic, and so personal…that it made such a difference in my life.

I would spend summers at her house- just me- and she would spoil me in all the right ways. Grandma loved to play games- Yahtzee, Rummikub, Scrabble. She would sit with me and play them all. She taught me how to shuffle a deck of cards and how to score each of the games and how to spell my words on the Scrabble board. She was patient and kind and enjoyed being with me.

She would include me in whatever she was doing- her bowling league, the lunch afterwards, sewing projects in her cozy sewing room with the machine humming along, the material she was working on flowing slowly and steadily through the needle as it bounced up and down too quickly to see. The television would be tuned to her “stories”, the soap operas she watched for years. It was all so cozy and safe. I never felt anxiety or suffered with sleep problems at Grandma’s house. She lived on a busy street and at night all the windows would be open since she had no A/C and the trucks and cars would zoom past the house and I would sleep soundly like a baby in Nana’s big comfy bed surrounded by piles of books all around.

She was an amazing cook and a fabulous baker. That may be, in part, where my love of and comfort in food came from. Her apple pie and homemade bread were famous. And she would always let me help out in the kitchen. Perfecting the art of homemade bread was one of my goals as an adult and, with her loving help, I did so. It still brings me joy and peace to pull a fresh loaf out of the oven and smell the yeasty goodness that will ALWAYS remind me of my Grandma. I don’t eat much bread these days- but even I can’t resist a slice of warm, fresh from the oven, homemade bread. That is one thing that is actually worth the calories it contains!

Grandma was good at art too. She taught me to draw and would draw little animal pictures for me. 

I never realized it as a kid, but out of all her grandkids, I was most like my Grandma. Not in her many talents and gifts…but she, too, was a little sister. She had 2 older sisters, just like me. She had 2 younger brothers (I only had one…but he was such a hand full, he might as well have been 2). She also had 3 older brothers…but most of all, she had her own insecurities and feisty personality. 

She was the most generous person ever…but also had a snarky side. She thought of others and was compassionate and giving but could also sling some pretty sharp words when she let herself. I am like her in all that- and in my love for children (I, too, have worked in pre-schools, volunteered with special needs children, and taken in foster children). I love books and reading as she did. I love drawing and art too (though I am not very good at it). I love to bake. Mostly, I am like her in my personality. Maybe that is why she and I were kindred spirits. Maybe she just saw something in me no one else (including myself) ever has…but I cannot thank her enough for her real, deep, abiding love for me.

Miss you my Gugger...more than words can say.....Happy Birthday!