Processing Part II

From as far back as I can remember I've only ever dreaded - truly, truly dreaded - one thing: Losing my grandmother. It sounds silly, but the mere mention of it - even as recently as this year - sent me into a frenzied crying jag. It was never, "When she dies," it was, "If she dies." I honestly believed I could will her to live forever.

When I was five, my mom and I lived with Grammy while mom was trying to figure things out after separating from my father. That's when I absolutely fell head-over-heels in love with her. She was beautiful, graceful, had the most fabulous clothes and shoes, gave the best hugs, made the best Pop-Tarts (toasted blueberry - no frosting - with a thin layer of butter melted on top), always told me how glad she was to have me there, always made me feel special and important ("Gramma's little helper"): She totally validated my existence - you see, I was utterly invisible until my grandmother brought me to life with her love.

My mom and I had just come out of an extremely tumultuous situation. My parents didn't get along and there were lots of behind-the-doors arguments that left me feeling sad and confused. I'd heard the word "divorce" many times, but never knew that it meant my world was about to change. Fortunately, it changed for the better. I hated the fighting. Besides, I felt like I'd totally scored getting to live with Gramma.

Yes, I worshipped and adored her - I have for my whole life. She was always perfect in my eyes and she never once let me down or disappointed me. Ever.

And that's just who she was as my grandmother.

As a woman, she'd overcome the losses of a child (who was stillborn), a brother (Vernon to cancer at a young age), her parents (father, Freas, who died when Grammy was in her 30s or 40s; and mother, Ann, who lived to 83), two husbands whom she adored madly (John in 1967 and Dick in 1994), and a grandchild (Elliott in 2004). I realize that we all lose family members throughout the courses of our lives; what made her remarkable was her strength and fortitude during these difficult times. I have vivid memories of her at Dick's and my great-grandmother's funerals: In hindsight, I realize she was modeling a behaviors (strength, courage) that I would have to learn to eventually summon.

In 1973, at the age of 51, she entered the workforce and pursued a career as a life insurance agent for Bankers Life (now The Principal Financial Group) - where she was highly-esteemed and incredibly successful. I frequently tagged along with her to the office and on appointments so I was able to see, first-hand, her wonderful social skills and the thought, care and kindness in which she handled her relationships with co-workers and customers alike. I was quite young and impressionable back then so it's not surprising that I subconsciously learned the importance of empathy and listening (customer service) by watching my grandmother in both her personal and professional roles.

She had the best parties, the coolest friends, oh - and the most incredible singing voice! She was the soprano soloist for the Plymouth Congregational Church (now Plymouth UCC) in Des Moines for 36 years (1952-1988). This is not a rinky-dink choir, y'all. I couldn't find a video of the choir during her tenure, but here they are now (click HERE) sounding every bit as good as they did then (and always, for that matter). The choir director shown in the video, Sharon Parker-Lenihan, is the soloist that would eventually replace my grandmother in 1988. What. Ever. :)

Anyway, one of my favorite memories of my grandmother (I think it's a favorite of most, if not all, of our family) is when she would perform her "O Holy Night" solo during the midnight service each Christmas Eve to a standing room only crowd. I'd get so excited and proud that I could hardly contain myself. As far as I'm concerned, no one ever has done - or ever will do - justice to "O Holy Night" the way she did. No one.

She was a total rock star in absolutely everything she did.

And this is only the woman she was after I was born...


Me & Grammy


Upside Down Maggies at The Morrison Inn (Colorado)


Fabulous...


Four generations...


Grampa John & Grammy