A Tribute

When my daughter was just old enough to support herself well while sitting in a high chair, I remember sitting at the kitchen table at my husband’s grandmother’s house on Sunnybrook---the home she and her first husband created; the home in which they entertained, raised their children, and where they welcomed their first grandchild, my husband; the home where she was first widowed, then went on to expand the family twice more into a full, chaotic, united family, a palimpsest, with two more loving husbands, welcoming more grandchildren and great-grandchildren along the way. I remember sitting with her at that table, just the three of us---my husband’s grandma, my daughter, and me---when she began to tell me about her first husband, who died rather unexpectedly when my husband was almost a toddler.

As she spoke---of their youth and courtship, their circle of friends (which, I was amused to learn, included her current husband), their first date and his picking her up in taxi cab---she was a woman transformed. Beautifully fierce but frail, she spoke with the soft, excited voice of a very young woman very much in love.

I let her talk, and felt such intimacy, such kinship with this petite, porcelain woman, as if in that moment I was her trusted girlfriend to whom she was divulging the secrets of her affections. Aside from welcoming me to her family, it was likely the best gift she could have ever given me. There are few times in my life when I have felt so privileged.

She described her first husband, who he was and the things he said and did. He was a writer. He smoked, drank coffee as he worked. He composed at his typewriter. By her description, he was creative and smart and funny and . . .

“He would have liked you, dear. Very much.”

Her narrative concluded, she was Grandma again, not the peach-cheeked youth who had been rhapsodizing about her first love, but the kind, sweet, feisty yet frail woman to whom I was already devoted.

Today, on her 87th birthday, we lost her.

She has left us a legacy unparalleled, and in the next several days and weeks those who love her will no doubt recall their own ‘kitchen table’ moments---she was very generous with her kindness of spirit.

Though the next several days, especially, will be difficult, I can’t help but imagine a vibrant, petite, peach-cheeked girl being met by a smitten, smiling young man, holding open the door to a taxi cab.