My Granny

An Ode to a Life Well Lived

For 56 years, I’ve had a very special Granny.

And I know how lucky that makes me—to be 56 years old and still have had her in my life for all of it.

Now, I will always be the favorite.
That’s not me bragging… it’s just acknowledging something we all know.

Granny had this gift—she could take ordinary things and make them fun.
Like the Easter egg hunts where she wrapped coins in aluminum foil so we’d have extra treasures to find.

She was an artist, a seamstress, an entrepreneur… a little bit of everything.
She loved ideas. She loved creating. She loved making things beautiful.

When I was in junior high, she even subscribed to Seventeen Magazine—just so when she bought me clothes, they would be in style.

And shopping with Granny… that was an event.

We had one rule:
We couldn’t go home until the trunk was full.

We’d get dressed up, go to the mall, have lunch.
Sometimes we’d get our makeup done—but only if it was “bonus time,” so we’d get the free gift bag too.

We probably went into every store in the mall.
There was no drugstore makeup. No shortcuts. We might look for a deal—but we were going to do it right.

And then we’d go home, and I’d “model” everything for Papo.

Granny didn’t just buy clothes—she made them.

My prom dresses. My wedding dress.
Not just sewn—designed.

She would sketch ideas, and we’d sit together combining them until it was just right… and then she’d bring it to life.

She tried to teach me how to sew.
I could do it for a little while… but I didn’t inherit the passion.

But I did inherit something else.

Her creativity. Her eye. Her sense that things should be done well.

She was always inventive.
Like the time she made me a dress in college—and instead of mailing it, she put it in a shoebox and sent it on a Greyhound bus.
I had to go pick it up at the station.

That was Granny.

She helped me pick out furniture for my houses.
Her paintings hang on my walls—and on the walls of my friends.

And when my boys were little, she set up workstations in her backyard so they could paint and create… just like she had done with me.

We were only 40 years apart.
So when I was 35 and she was 75, we made a plan—we would take a trip together every five years.

We met in different places…
A river cruise in New Orleans, Vegas, Nashville, a train ride through Texas.

And one year, she flew all the way to Hawaii to spend a week with me.

I don’t just have memories of my Granny…
I have a lifetime of experiences with her.

(pause — look down, let it settle)

And the hardest part isn’t that she’s gone…

(pause)

It’s that… for 56 years…
if something mattered in my life—
she was the one I wanted to tell.

(longer pause)

The good news.
The funny story.
The outfit.
The trip.
The idea.

(beat)

And when I heard she passed…
I realized something.

I think I had actually started to believe she was going to live forever.

My first thought was—
“I hope heaven is ready for her.”

Because she’s not up there resting.

She’s restored. She’s healthy. She’s busy.

She’s already found everyone she knows…
She’s being social…
And I guarantee you, she’s rearranging furniture to get that recliner in just the right spot.

And then, when Chuck Norris passed a week later…
I thought—well… Granny must have needed help moving something.

But the truth is—

My Granny isn’t gone.

She’s exactly where she’s always been.

With me.

With all of us.

In our memories.
In the way we do things.
In the way we love.

She’s in my heart.
And she always will be.

#newleasaonlife @thelongwayhome