In Memory of Grandma Kathy

I met Zach's maternal grandmother, Grandma Kathy, a decade ago: she and Grandpa Ray picked me up at the Greyhound station in Sacramento and hosted me for a few days before I flew up to Portland to visit Zach. Even though Zach and I had only been dating for a few months, she welcomed me into the family with a warmth that seemed almost too good to be true! I played songs on their old piano and she gushed about what an amazing musician I was. I showed her my art and she gushed about what an amazing artist I was. Considering that she was a fantastic musician (singing in several bands over the course of her life) and a stunning artist (her watercolors are magnificent), this was high praise. 

Those few days of eating quesadillas, watching old movies, and swapping stories were repeated many times over throughout the years. We spent a week there in the middle of our Pacific Crest Trail hike to recover from some injuries and gain back some weight (Grandma Kathy called it "Grandma's Fat Camp," and I gained five pounds and Zach gained ten in a week— important since Zach looked like a skeleton). We tried to visit about once a year, most recently this past summer for a few days. I loved hearing her stories from her Beatlemania teenaged years, and her hippie days— living in a commune, raising vegetables and goats, hitchhiking around the country while pregnant. She said that Zach and me were "like hippies, but without all the stupid stuff!" which I thought was one of the best compliments ever. We'd spend hours watching competition shows on Food Network while snacking on chips and salsa, loudly cheering on the candidates. She shared her favorite movies with us, and we watched the old family favorite What About Bob? several times, laughing uproariously. 

When we were back home, she was always reminding us of her love and support. As I walk around my house, I see all the gifts she sent me throughout the years: novels and nonfiction, movies and documentaries, spice mixes, Sibley's Guide to Eastern North American Birds, a set of watercolors, cards and letters with her drawings. I sit down at the piano and play/sing the song "If I Fell" by the Beatles, thinking of how I learned to play and sing it so that Zach and I could perform it for her. 

I have so much more to say, but these are the images that come to mind when I think of Grandma Kathy. She meant so much to me, and she truly was my grandma. 

I read back over these words and they feel so inadequate for what I want to truly say. How can you contain someone's life, and a decade of knowing them, into a few paragraphs? I love her, I miss her, and life will not be the same without her.

Rest in peace.