farewell.

Gram.

She was special.

Not the kind of special that lasts a week and is plastered on every wall, but the kind that only a select few really get to hold close and call their own.

She was no shy bird. She made sure you knew who she was, especially if you were listening to her talented husband preach what she would say was his best message yet. She knew when to boast. But, she was my best kept secret…

 

Gram was special because the minute she met one of my friends or a complete stranger who had wandered into our crazy gathering, she would introduce herself by saying “Hi! I’m Gram! Who are you?” and then proceed to look up at them with an ever so slightly furrowed brow as if she was ready for them to declare themselves unsafe. Once the person in question recovered from this abrupt interrogation and introduced themselves she immediately put her biggest squinty eyed smile on and demanded that they call her Gram from that moment on. No point in arguing.

 

Gram had the best sense of style. And when I say best, I mean I’m pretty sure she was known for wearing one solid color… Blue shirt, blue pants, blue socks, blue shoes. I’m also fairly certain that she had cornered the market on religious and spiritual graphic t-shirts and sweatshirts. We all know what I’m referring to. No one wore the lion and the lamb like she did. Jesus was her homie long before it was popular.

 

One of the things I loved about Gram was her child like approach to love and faith. She loved simply and she loved ardently. The way she saw her father god was one of the purest I have ever known. She knew him. And she knew that He knew her too. She was sincere in her desire to grow in love and become more like jesus. It was simple. It was beautiful.

 

Gram was the one found guilty of introducing me to thedelicately dangerous thing called coffee at least 20 years ago. A beautiful life long love affair that eventually became a career. I will be traveling to Kenya in less than 4 days to visit some coffee farms that my company purchases beans from, and I can’t help but think back to the days that we would spend with gram as children sitting around our little table with out tiny teacups that were being misused for what I think to be a much greater purpose. Breakfast coffee, snack coffee, lunch coffee, snack coffee, dinner decaf coffee, snack… She was the beginning of something that I get to love doing every day. I treasure this.

 

If you knew my grandmother, then you knew how completely smitten with her family she was. She would continually tell me that our family is special and that we’re not like everyone else. It was like a secret that she felt simultaneously guilty yet giddy for saying out loud. I mostly laughed it off and told her its ok if she believes that, all the while thinking that she was ever so slightly crazy and that I had reality in the bag.

The most memorable of these proud moments were usually during family gatherings while we were all joining hands and about to thank god for the food. We’d all be forming a circle, laughing at inside jokes and teasing aunt Kristin about the decorations, and we’d see Grams rocking start and she’d begin to tear up (she was a major weeper). We would get a little quiet,as she would start to cry and go on and on about how great this family is and how amazing each and every one of us was, but eventually we would all begin to laugh and tell her how cute she was… which only made her mad. Mad gram was also a very cute Gram.

 

All of that to say, she was insanely proud of her kids. All of them. There was no stain on her lineage. She saw each one of her children fight through the storms that came their way, and she was their biggest cheerleader. There was nothing, absolutely nothing they could do to lose her love. She was crazy about them. She was crazy about their kids. She was crazy about their grandkids.

 

Last Friday I lost a grandmother, a cheerleader, an ally, and a friend. She was my favorite… She was home. And as I stand here today I am still in denial that she’s actually gone. I am longing to hear her laugh just one more time. I am yearning for her tiny little self to be in my arms just one last time so I can kiss the top of her head just one last time. But I know even that would never be enough. Nothing would ever prepare me for this loss. She is irreplaceable.

 

Gram, you were right. There is something really special about this family. You.

 

We love you. Always.