Grandma Marie and Princess Jessica

Dear Julianna,

Please, sweetie, let me tell you about your Great-Grandma Marie. 

She died earlier this week, shortly after your first birthday.  I wanted you to meet her, sweetheart, but she has been sick and she hasn’t felt like herself in some time.  But since the day you were born, she collected photographs, clippings, and stories about you like a child collects seashells on a vast beach, keeping each one close by to display and admire.  She died, my love, because she was sick.  She’s been deep in my thoughts and heavy in my heart all week, and I’m so sad you won’t get to know her the way I did.  So, my dearest little one, I want to tell you about her and what made her so special to me.

Now, let me tell you about my relationship with Grandma Marie.

To me, Grandma Marie was pure magic.  We’d come through the door of her house, and BOOM! Energy right away. 

“My beautiful Jessica! Oh! I can’t believe you’re here!” She’d exclaim, over and over again.  “Wait until I show you what I have for you. Just wait!” Her voice was like a singsong of excitement.

And then we’d be off, up to her room, where she’d give me a treasure.

She’d save for me…

Lace doilies. poems, pins, earrings, dolls. Cartoons, Barbie furniture.

Bits of fairy dust.  Books.  Cut out photographs from magazines.

Even in the garage…

Miracle string!  A stray rose. A pretty vase. Gardening gloves. Scented soap.

And the imagining we’d do…

She’d teach me how to wave like REAL royalty. Some people will tell you all you need to do is act like you are screwing in a light bulb, but there was much more to it than that.  Chin up, eyebrows lifted, we’d wave, back and forth to all the subjects on both sides of the street; those thousands who would obviously flock to catch a fleeting glimpse of me, Princess Jessica.

And what of my awkward adolescent phase?

Bright red lipstick samples! Intoxicating perfumes! Pointy brassieres!  Girdles! Nylons!  Polyester blouses, patent leather shoes… underwear that went up to there! Grandma’s nervous laughter would actually put me at ease in these years.  I would later wear her “vintage” clothing to school dances, thinking I looked really modern in this retro fashion.  I thought I looked so un-cool that it was cool. Remember, my darling, that irony is never in style.

And later…during college…

Money for books.  Money for food.  Pretty candles and prettier chocolates that served as a meal or two in between my classes.

Love notes, articles, letters, and silly phone calls.  Grandma Marie sprinkled love and care into my life.

When her brother passed, I was given a tiny print that he owned. The artwork is a small image of silhouettes of a child and mother under a starry sky. Grandma felt that her brother and I were connected because he was a journalist, and I was studying Journalism in school.

This would be one of the few things I kept with me through college and beyond, and it currently sits atop your dresser, small one. When I look at it, I think of the generations before us, and those living a world away. It is a link to your Great-Grandma Marie’s family, and I treasure it. I hope you will too.

Every year since I met your daddy, on my birthday Grandma would send me two twenty dollar bills, one for me and one for your daddy’s birthday, even though his was six months away. She’d write that she wanted us to celebrate our special days together.  We’ve had many beautiful meals over the last decade with the money from Grandma.  What a special idea.

But do you want to know the REALLY remarkable thing about Grandma Marie? The most magical thing about her to me?

She didn’t have to love me.  She didn’t have to be my Grandma. 

No,but really! She didn’t!

You see, my Grandma Marie wasn’t related to me by blood. She was the mother of my stepfather, Ted.  Your wonderful Grandpa Teddy married my mommy, your Grandma, after she already had two children, me and my big brother.  Teddy loved us all, and he wanted us all to be a family; so he brought us to meet his mother, Marie.  

She first met me when I was very small, less than two years old.  Uncle Danny was around four years old.

And from that day on, without a second thought, we were her grandchildren.  Every holiday, every birthday, every achievement, Grandma would send a gift and a handwritten card, something funny and silly and poetic.  She was so proud of us. We’d visit her as much as we could, but many times we’d miss seeing her because we’d go visit the other side of our family with my dad.  Even though we weren’t there, she’d always send her love.  And though I knew she loved me, I’d always feel sad that we didn’t see her often enough.

And then, one beautiful afternoon a few years ago, she showed me her special book.

It was a book in which she wrote a page each time she had a new grandchild. She created the book when she met Dan and me, as at that point she didn’t have any other grandchildren.

And in the book, she wrote how excited she was to finally have grandchildren of her own.  She wrote of our beauty and what we were like.  Everything she instantly loved about us.  She made no mention of “step” anything, and our loving relationship needed no asterisks.  

When I read these pages a few years ago, it made my heart ache.  She really, truly considered me her granddaughter right away.  She didn’t just “take us on” because it was what was expected of her. She wrote pages in a journal that no one would have ever seen unless she shared them. Pages telling of her joy and excitement.  Pages that proved how much she loved ALL of her grandkids, how much she adored each of us. How proud she was to be our grandmother.

So, early this morning when my coworker asked me, “Which side of your family was she on?”, I wanted to say “mine.”  She was on my side. ALWAYS.

All these years of hearing my relationships reduced to degrees and percentages… I won’t allow it any more.  Teddy is more than a “step-father,” and the phrase “half brother” is my least favorite expression in the world.  Because family is FAMILY, damn it!  There is no “step” distinction in the ache in my heart I feel when I know I won’t hear Grandma Marie call me “my Jessica” again.  And that laugh, that cannon boom of surprise, delight, and instant restraint… like someone bursting out laughing in the middle of a silent library, and then realizing they’d better cut it out or they’d get in big trouble.  Knowing I’ll never hear that specific sound again hurts my whole heart.  

We loved each other. From the very beginning, she chose to love me and treat me as her own, and I was instantly smitten.

She was my Grandma. She was a cheerleader, someone who called me beautiful during my ugliest, awkward years. Someone who celebrated when I graduated from college.  Someone who worried she was bothering me when we spoke, even when I was the one who had called her.  Someone who hated keeping secrets, and wanted to know the exact date and time she could announce my pregnancy to the world. She was so proud to be a great-grandmother to you, sweet Julianna. Did it even cross her mind anymore that I was her “step-granddaughter?”  I don’t know, and to be honest, I don’t think it matters at all. Because Grandma Marie was someone who found a spot in her heart, in her family, and her life for a little girl she didn’t know, and made that lucky little girl into a princess.

And for that, I will always be grateful.

I’ll miss her, Julianna. But I will carry her with me always; and when I unabashedly open my own heart for our newest family members, I’ll think of Grandma each time.  And someday, when you welcome new family with ease and pride, I’ll know it was inherited from your Great-Grandma Marie, and your giant-hearted Grandpa Teddy.

Now let’s try that wave again, my beautiful Julianna. Keep your chin up, my little princess.