MEMORIAL

One of the most interesting (and most important) people I have ever known was my grandmother, Mary. She was such a dynamic person. If she found a hobby or something of interest she liked, she taught herself how to master it. Whether it was floral arranging, painting (oil, acrylic and watercolor), cake baking and decorating, sewing, playing instruments, cultivating specialty irises, gardening, singing…she could and did do about almost anything. She was fierce that way. And admirable. I was so in awe of her as a child and young adult. She never let not knowing how to do something dissuade her. She was a creative person through and through. It oozed out of her, and you could see it in everything she touched. I always hoped that someday I would be just like her.

Mary was a nurturer. She had a way with people that was gentle and empathetic. She always tried to understand where someone was coming from even during times of conflict. She kept in touch as often as possible with those near and dear to her. You knew, without a doubt, she cared for you. She was also a normal, flawed human being as we all are. I only see that now as I get into my middle-aged years. Perhaps it was the generation she came from, but she hid her wounds no matter how bad they hurt her or affected her life. She acted as though there was nothing to worry about and went about her day. To the point that, at least in my opinion, it caused her demise. Mary was a cancer survivor. It was not a typical cancer diagnosis for the time. It was a long, hard-fought battle that left her scarred and changed as a person. But she never wavered and continued on with life as was her way. As I became a young adult, her and I had grown extremely close. If I didn’t visit her at least every other day, she was calling me wondering what was wrong. In our time together, we talked about everything imaginable. From how to grow roses properly to how life was for her growing up in the depression era. We were bonded. One day, something felt off about her. My grandfather mentioned that she started coughing pretty bad and it appeared she was coughing up blood. She shooed away any conversation about it. With me, my mother, or my aunt. Then one day, my mother and aunt asked me to talk to her about going to the doctor because they believed she would listen to me. I set up a hair appointment for her, let her know I’d be there to take her and that it was an afternoon just for us. She was so excited. Until after the appointment when I told her we needed to talk. I told her I knew about how serious her coughing was and that she needed medical intervention. This wonderful human being broke down and let me know that she was scared. It was fear of knowing that cancer had come back that stopped her from seeking treatment sooner. She passed away a few months later due to complications from the surgery she had for lung cancer. To say that I was devastated would be a gross understatement. The only person who truly understood me, got me in every way and loved me wholly was gone, forever. Life would just never be the same without her. She was like the sun and after she died, nothing grew and flourished anymore. That side of my family broke off into their own family units. What she created, the environment of unity and togetherness, was no more. My parents and siblings, and our local relatives made sure we remained close with Grandpa Joe. He passed away during Covid at 96 years old.

I created the business partly to honor my grandparents. Mostly to honor my grandmother though. She taught me everything I know about listening to the creativity in yourself and to not be dissuaded. For me, being creative is like breathing, because without it, life feels suffocating. Even after her passing, my grandmother has inspired me to be the person I am today. I am forever grateful to her and for her, and everything she taught me. I miss her so very much, but I know that one day we will see each other again.