I just got a call from my dad. He told me that Grandma is about to die. My grandma told me the same thing last night.
I have been pacing around my flat for about a half hour. I’m wide awake, and I keep walking like I have something to do, but I don’t know what that is. So I decided to sit down and write.
And here I am.
My grandma was one of the strongest people to ever live. I say that with no exaggeration. She really is one of the strongest people to ever live. I feel lucky to be able to say that I am part of the family of such a person.
I was fortunate to grow up in the same city as my grandma, which means I had the opportunity to get to know her very well. And when you are young, you are shaped by those you share your time with. Some people lead by example, and some preach. My grandma did both. She was frank, blunt, and even curt at times, but she said it how it was. She did not spare people’s feelings if she felt they needed to hear what she had to say. Over the years I learned that she basically believed that if you put yourself in a situation then you ought to own up to it. But more than this, she believed that even if you found yourself in a tough position due to nothing of your own fault, if you were dealt a bad hand, you needed to own that too. You see my grandma taught me that all people are people. It doesn’t matter what you look like, what you do for a living, how much money you have, or anything superficial. It mattered that you were a person. It sounds so simple, but everyday we judge people, everyday we look at people as being different. We may not go as far as to act like they are different, but we are often guilty of looking at them differently. My grandma had an eye for this.
It seems that every time I talk with one of my relatives, I learn about a chapter of my grandma’s life that I didn’t know before. Her story gets richer with each detail. My cousin Sarah and I talked about how her life could easily be a movie. She lived through the Great Depression and was a member of what has been accurately described as the greatest generation. She and my grandpa divorced when her four kids were still young and all living at home. She raised this family of four on her own and managed to put three through Catholic private schools through 12th grade. She did this by starting her own business, a nursing home, from the ground up with significant help from all four children.
A particular memory comes to mind right now. When she was in her 60s she decided to adopt Brian, a child with severe Cerebral Palsy who could speak just a couple of words and had little use of his limbs. He became an integral member of our family. This particular memory goes like this: One time my brother, Brian, and I were playing basketball in her driveway. My brother and I would play around the world, one on one, and take turns putting up shots. About every 5th shot or so, we would help Brian take a shot. We did this for about a half hour until, without any warning, Grandma came out and began yelling at us. I remember her angrily shouting, “Brian is a person too. Just the same as you two.” I also remember trying to explain that we were including him in our game, but just not every other shot. This made her even more angry. It wasn’t at that moment that I understood her anger. Like many profound lessons, it took time to finally set in. And as I’ve gotten older it makes more and more sense each year, and every time I see someone treating someone else as if they are a fraction of a person, it sinks in a little deeper. You see, my grandma taught me that everyone is equal. Completely equal. Not just 1 out of every 5 shots. We all deserve the same amount of shots.
As I mentioned earlier, her life had many chapters, but they all had something in common. She lived to serve. The different chapters are often broken up by her decision to focus her service toward new people in need. As far back as I can remember, grandma had at least one person outside of her blood-related family, sometimes three, living with her and depending on her. My dad has told me that this is true back to the days that he was a child. Even into her eighties, she was still lifting Brian in and out of his wheelchair, she was still making sure everyone made it to church on Sundays, and she was still cooking delicious meat and potato meals.
I could honestly spend tens of pages talking about the many things she has done in her life. And that would only be what I know about. And I assure you that each page would impress you more, and I would still not be able to do justice to such a rich life. Instead, I would like to focus on the lessons that she taught me.
Never let your family stray.
Bridge the gaps, geographically, spiritually, and personally.
Tell it how it is.
In a world that is increasingly focused on being politically correct and careful with words, she was not. It was refreshing.
Be the one that will say what others are afraid to bring up.
We all need one of these people in our life.
Fight for what you believe is best for others.
She lived a life of service.
Never accept “No.”
I pity anyone who told her this.
Always have few bucks in your pocket.
She never let me leave without something in my pocket.
Never underestimate the power of one woman.
There was nothing she could not accomplish. There was no battle she refused to take up.
Keep your faith: In good times and bad.
God is with us in both.
Apathy is cruel.
Grandma was never guilty of not caring.
Keep life simple.
No matter how complicated a situation seemed to me, she had a way of simplifying it that only someone who had seen so much could do.
She constantly had a message. Each and every time with her, she would impress messages upon me with dogmatic conviction. I will admit that I didn’t always listen or give them the consideration that she wanted and which they probably deserved, but as I have gotten a bit older, I can distinctly see them playing out in the way I lead my life. I guess after a while they sunk in. Among these many messages, two always stood out for me. They were the two that she emphasized the most. She always told me to remember two things: First, no matter what was going on in my life, accomplishments or hard lessons, she always told me to remember who I should thank, which was God. Second, she always told me to remember and be proud of where I came from. She meant our family.
My dad called tonight to tell me that grandma is dying, but she already told me herself last night. She was in a hospital bed. She couldn’t speak. I was thousands of miles away. But that could not stop my grandma. The family had news, and she was going to find a way to tell me. So she came to me in a dream. In true grandma fashion, she busted out of the hospital and picked me up. We were in Spokane, and she was driving her signature van that will forever be in my memories of her. She asked me how I was. She told me to be thankful for what I have and remember who to thank. She told me to remember where I came from. And she told me she was going to die.
Nothing could stop my Grandma.
I was able to get back to see her one last time and attend her celebration of life. I was also able to speak at the service. This post became a combination of thoughts I jotted down on the night I found out about her health and while I was in Spokane. I have had it written for a while, but I went back and forth on whether I should post it. Ultimately, I decided that this story should be shared. Before I end this though, one thing that I wanted to say, which was how I always described her, I felt I couldn’t say on an altar, so I will say it here.
She was a badass.
I have always been, and will always be, proud to be a Cunningham.
“Always remember there is nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name.”
-The Avett Brothers
