In full transparency, I wasn’t sure if I should write and publish something about my grandma. I wasn’t sure if she would want me to. I wasn’t sure if the people who also knew her would want me to. But I’m a big believer in signs and all the signs pointed to writing this, so I am! I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted to share- I had thoughts of writing a eulogy I never gave, the lessons I learned from her, and finally, after reading the below quote I understood what I should write about:

“Be the things you love most about the person who is gone.”

What do I love about my grandma that I most want to embody in this life? She loved a walk, she was a fantastic baker, she was sassy, and always willing to lend a hand.

My grandma loved to go on walks around whatever small town she lived in. My favorite walks with her were to the town cemetery that was just down the road from my grandparents’ house as well as the ones we took in nature around my grandparents’ cabin in Northern Michigan. The one walk that stays etched in my memory is one we took when she stayed with us after my dad left when I was in elementary school. She declared that we all needed to take a walk to “get the stink blown off us.” As an 11-year-old, I interpreted this as actual stink (and still do), but 30 years later, as I reflect on this now, maybe it was also to blow off the feelings and uncertainty we were all feeling by a massive shift in our family. As I now work from home and find myself not leaving the house for some days, I’ll think to myself, “I really need to get out and get the stink blown off me.” I implemented weekly walks in honor of her and my grandpa- a set day to get outside into nature, and it is one of the best things I’ve done. I take a walk amongst trees, sometimes with music, sometimes with a podcast playing, and sometimes in silent reverence for the nature around me.

My grandma was an excellent cook and baker. There was always a massive amount of food on Sundays after church, holidays, and family gatherings. The entire amount of food may not have all been her though since being able to cook and bake are traits held by her sisters, daughters, and other family. My high school best friend likes to frequently say that I am a baker, and it brings me much joy. While I can cook too, it is baking that I enjoy most. I love trying to recreate the bakes my grandma made us for so many years. Sugar cookies were a staple and seemed to always be on the kitchen table ready for consumption. There were many times I would walk into my grandparents’ house and would be greeted by my grandma with spice cupcakes or cake, my absolute favorite, in her hands for me. There were many Christmases, I was met with fudge in a tin, another of my favorite desserts. One of my most prized possessions is my grandma’s rolling pin. It is on display in my kitchen and used whenever I make sugar cookies every Christmas. (Spice cake with penuche icing is made each November at Thanksgiving).

Of all the things I hope to be, I want to embody the sassiness my grandma exhibited. She had excellent sayings, comebacks, and antics that still make me laugh to this day. After “get the stink blown off you,” my other favorite sayings were “I need that like I need another hole in my head” and “I hope to be dead by then.” My grandma and I both have similar take-me-now-I’m-ready-to-go life philosophies, which probably means I will also live to be 92. (ugh)

My grandma was also always willing to lend a hand whenever she was needed, whether we asked for help or not. We were always sent home with leftover food. I usually also got sent home with a brand-new box of Kleenex especially if I had been sneezing during seasonal allergy season. She cleaned the house when she visited. Laundry was always kept up. And sometimes we were given a bit of money slyly with the bill neatly folded and quickly exchanged from her hand to yours “for your pocketbook” or it was discovered at a later date, hidden in a pocket, purse, or bag.

My grandma passed away early last year. Her health had been in decline for many years, her memory no longer. It was still a hard loss, harder than I had anticipated for having a 92-year-old grandmother. I am surprised at the tears I shed over the last year. A memory will come, tears will flow, then I’ll hear in my head, “Elysa Rae, stop your boo-hooing” in her voice and I’ll laugh.

When I think about someone who is a part of many people’s lives, I am constantly amazed at all the different bits and pieces we remember. Sometimes we’ll remember the same thing, other times people will share things that you don’t remember or didn’t know. These are the things I took away from my time with my grandma, but my family may have other memories that are precious to them. There is nothing like doing something and getting hit with an “Okay, Doris” by my mom. Sometimes I know I am embodying her mother, other times I’m surprised whatever I was doing was so like my grandma.

I may never wear a full body “ninja” suit to protect myself from mosquitos, but I will always speed up the car just a bit to go over a small hill (especially that one on Jerry City Road- if you know, you know). I may not be the first person up to shovel snow off the driveway, but I will drink coffee throughout the day (not black, though, sorry Grandma). I may not be the person who jumps up first to wash dishes, but I will make you your favorite dessert. I don’t get up at 4am or show up to places ridiculously early, but I’ll welcome you to my home with open arms. I may not be able to stop my boo-hooing (I am a sensitive Pisces after all), but I will call myself “Elysa Rae” in self-talk to get it together. And I’ll use Elysa Rae as my writing pen name. Even though it is actually my first and middle name, my grandma used it together quite frequently, so I chose it as my writing pen name in honor of her.

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The song “Marjorie” by Taylor Swift that she wrote in honor of her own grandma is one of my favorite songs. (And yes, of course I cried when it was sung live during ‘The Eras Tour’ amongst 300K of my closest friends. Pisces, remember?).

I should’ve asked you questions
I should’ve asked you how to be
Asked you to write it down for me
Should’ve kept every grocery store receipt
‘Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me
Watched as you signed your name “Marjorie”
All your closets of backlogged dreams
And how you left them all to me