A Tale of Two Women

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 On Friday, March 14, Erma G. Grantham passed away. She died in Cypress, TX., but really was a resident of the whole state. She lived in many places, most notably in Alice, TX., where I spent a good part of my childhood growing into the person I am today.

A few weeks before I came to Belgium, another good woman passed from the world, and my (our) lives. Her name was Jean Folan. She died at her home in Alexandria, VA. She had been under hospice care for quite some time before her eventual passing. I, along with my sister, mother, grandfather and aunt, were at the house at the time, so we were able to say our final goodbyes.

Both were fine women, and meant a great deal to me. They were my grandmothers, and women who played  a large part in making me the man I am today. Well, all of the good things that I am. I have to take credit, or the blame as it were, for all of the bad things that I might be.

These two women, a study in contrasts. Erma was my father’s mother. She was religious, and conservative and a strong woman, the product of the unforgiving country in which she lived, loved and raised a family. She was sharp as a tack, too. You didn’t get many things by her. These are the things that I remember about her. A sense of grace, and funny. She always made me laugh. And she was pretty free with the sugar. That’s what she said when she wanted a kiss, or wanted to give one of her grandchildren a kiss: pass me some of that sugar. I remember my mother being afraid she would spoil me with all of the affection that she never failed to lavish upon me. Afraid she might molly coddle me with her kisses, with her hugs, with her holding me in her arms, rocking her chair back and forth.

Jean, or Mimi as she liked my sister and I to call her (never call me Grandma, she was fond of saying, though I would just to get her goat sometimes), was my mother’s mother. And she was brash, loud and bold. She had an opinion on most things, and was never afraid to tell you what it might be. And I was glad to hear them, because, in many ways, her views informed my own views of the world, from childhood until adulthood. And I suspect they will, always. She was my best friend when I was younger, and she never failed to be there for me when I needed her. And I often did. More times than I am able to count. I will never owe so much to anyone as I owe to the memory of Mimi, and to her fine husband, my grandfather, Mike. They both mean more to me, maybe even more now, than I am able to articulate.

How to quantify the love that one feels, or express the feelings of loss at the passing of those that they love? It may be simply beyond me to do so in any intelligible fashion. What I know is this: these women, my grandmothers, they have left us, but, in the grace and beauty of their lives, they have left a permanent impression upon my soul. Never was any one person so lucky than to have two women such as these in his life. I am humbled by them, and I will never forget the simple safety I felt by being in their arms, and in their hearts.

They say you have to love family, but that’s not always true, is it? I was lucky, though, for I had two women who loved me unconditionally, even when, at least as I viewed it, I was unworthy of that love. But still, it was given freely, and nothing was asked in return. God bless their memories, and long may they live in our hearts.

I love you Grandma, and I love you Mimi. The circle of life brings us all home again one day. Until I see you next, know this: you will never be far from my thoughts, or my heart.  I hope that I can make you proud, and repay even a fraction of the gifts that you tenderly bestowed upon me.

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