April 17, 2015
Dear Grandma,
We reach another milestone today:
the 15th anniversary of your death. The memory is as vivid as
yesterday, but the reality is that it is long past.
I always choose to mark this day with one
thing that truly connected us while you were with us on earth, and that is the
written word. I still have all of your letters from the time I left for
college to the final letter you wrote a few weeks before your death. They
are organized, chronologically, by post mark. It's one thing of the past
with which I refuse to part. Despite advances in technology and my own
inclination towards a clutter-free life, these letters Connect me, in a tangible
way, to one of my greatest heroes and the biggest influences.
You were, in this transient life, the
epitome of class, grace, and life. I know that as your eldest grandchild,
I have a biased opinion. However, over the years since your death so many
people have spoken such kind words about you. It would seem you left a legacy
of changed lives. You took your blessings and shared them with others.
I think of the girls you shepherded into church. You thought
nothing of going out of your way to pick up anyone needing a ride to church,
especially in your later years. You provided a place to live for friends
who needed a place to stay. You always took pride in your appearance.
You had impeccable penmanship, one of the many wonderful traits I
received from you. You lived your faith to the fullest extent of your
knowledge.
You were my biggest champion. It is
because of you that I learned to play piano, and today I enjoy my dream
avocation as a church pianist. You made sure I was involved in
church--you laid the foundation for me to stretch out and explore my own faith.
While my journey led me away from the Southern Baptist faith you held so
strongly, I think you would be proud of how I express my faith today, in a way
which differs starkly from yours. The week of your death I was received
into communion with the Roman Catholic Church, and prior to your death, you and
I dialogued about it, and I think you understood then—and surely do now, that
it was a natural progression for me, but my reception into the church is not
where my journey ended. My journey is one of a spiritual quest, drawing
from many traditions and philosophies, it is as unique as my relationship with
my creator, which I believe is how it should be. I wish you had lived
long enough to attend mass with me. While your spirit is always with me,
there are many times I have wished you were physically present to hear me play,
to get enjoyment from my music.
Last year brought a lot of change, with
the death of my grandfather, your widower, it brought about a reunion, and
facilitated a bit of a reconciliation with my past. How different things
would surely be were you still here among us. How differently life would
be. While I know that my sexual orientation broke your gentle heart, I do
believe that you would have gained a greater acceptance in your heart as you
got older and understood more. The world has come a long way, we are all
so connected now, but there's so, so much pain, hatred, and division.
Love and acceptance had come a long way, too.
Here's my confession: Even now, 15
years after your journey from death to life eternal, I miss you, and there is
not a single day in which you aren't remembered. Thank you for the gifts you
gave-music, compassion, love, and millions of other little memories you brought
me, and, in many ways, still do. You always did things your way, independently.
You are my hero. May you rest in peace, and continue to visit me
with your spirit.
Love,
rkt
