Friday, August 2, 2013


Minnie, Michael's grandmother, died this week. She was 86, and had been in poor health for a while. It was expected, and remains insanely sad. We are experiencing her death as a loss - not necessarily unjust, as she had lived a long and meaningful life, but her absence will be profound.

(Will be. I'm not yet willing to admit that it already is.)

Minnie and I clicked immediately. I've been thinking about why that was, why she was so good to me and why I loved her dearly. Why we were connected almost instantly? I think, above all, it was because she knew how much I loved her grandson.

Minnie loved to tell me about how, when Michael was little, he had beautiful, long eyelashes (which thankfully Alice inherited) and sweet blonde ringlets; how, at parties when other people wanted to hold him, she refused to share him. She loved him intensely and immediately.

We had a special goodbye. Michael and I were visiting with her. She, laying in her bed, was not completely coherent. She was saying something about our family, listing our names in a type of mantra. And then, as we were about to say goodbye, she had a moment of clarity and said to me, "It's been fun. Thank you. I love you." I gave her a series of kisses, because I didn't have it in me to say goodbye. And then I told her we loved her so much. And we left.

Since she's left us, I've been saying to her, "I'll take care of him. I'll take care of him. I'll take care of him."

I'll take care of him, Minnie. We love you. It has been fun.