One year ago today I phoned my mom.
I already knew what she was about to tell me. I had felt it that morning. Like something good had left the world and taken a little piece of my heart with it. So when she quietly told me that my Grandma Edwards had passed away, all I said was, "I know."
I was surprised at how much her death affected me. She had brain cancer, and it was long and agonisingly painful, but it wasn't unexpected. We knew one day she'd be gone, but when that day came, it still shocked us. Like how your breathing freezes for a moment when you jump into cold water. I sobbed after getting off the phone. I took the week off of my life, immediately packed a bag, and drove to Barnwell. I needed to be with my family.
That week I spent in Barnwell was one of the saddest times in my life, but it was also one of my favourites. A mashup of aunties, cousins, my Grandpa, my mum and I- we were buoyed up in our sorrow by the love my Grandma had created in that home. People brought over meals as we made funeral arrangements. We read Grandma's patriarchal blessing. We made lamingtons. Grandpa told us stories. Mom and her sisters sorted through Grandma's craft room. We spent hours pouring over photos in the living room, painstakingly remembering the memories in each. We hugged and cried and leaned on each other.
The funeral came. The funeral went. It was the most beautiful funeral I've ever been to. Many people later spoke of how they felt Grandma's spirit there, smiling and singing with all of us, especially as all of her daughters sang.
I loved that week. I loved being surrounded by my family. We used to get together for Christmas parties and family reunions and family dinners. Now that all my cousins have families of their own, we don't do that anymore. It was so nice to have everyone there.
I'm really grateful that my immediate family got to spend one last Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa Edwards at their house. It was bittersweet knowing it would likely be our last. Grandma wanted to have someone sit by her and hold her hand almost constantly.
This morning when I woke up and realized what day it was, I didn't think of that painful Christmas or the funeral. I woke up remembering my favourite memories with Grandma.
She always called me "Toots" and often sang this song around the kitchen as she cooked:
She always let me do crafts when I came to visit. My mom's biggest pet peeve was using her craft supplies without asking, and I did that a LOT. But at Grandma's house, I pretty much had free reign of her craft room, and I was allowed to colour and sew and make bracelets to my heart's content.
Grandma put us to work in the kitchen when we were really little. I once lamented that she didn't have a dishwasher, to which she replied, "Why would I need one of those? I have 28 grandkids!". I was expected to sweep, to set the table when I could barely even reach it, to peel carrots, shell peas... If you could walk, you could work. But, there was always a reward in the end- her counters overflowed with treats, and if you were really good, she kept orange pushpops in the freezer for you.
Sometimes, in the summers, my parents would send me to stay with my grandparents for a week. The days were long and lazy, and my grandparents' idea of fun was to work in the garden all morning, and nap or read in the afternoon. I thought it was so boring, but I'd give anything for a summer day like that now. I used to feel so ripped off for being one of the younger grandchildren. My older cousins got to have my Grandma when she was young and energetic and did fun things. I got her when she had more wrinkles and a shuffle for a walk. I got her and Grandpa in their sunset years while my cousins got the full sunshine-y day years. It's taken me a long time to realize that sunsets are just as beautiful as a noon-day sun.
Grandma was beautiful. She loved big and fierce. She loved my Grandpa with a love you only see in movies. There's hardly a picture where they aren't together. She loved her family. She loved God. She loved the temple. She made everyone feel special. She was selfless and gave as fast as she could get. I hope I can be like her one day. I want so badly to make her proud.
I miss you, Grandma. (Love, Toots)
