I think of you mom everyday.
"Happy Birthday!"
Ruth Jingu Yamadera b. October 5, 1917 d. July 27, 2006
Grandma Ruth
"I
wish I could be here in person to tell you all, “I just flew in, and
boy are my arms tired!” In short, I wish I could be here with you today
to be able to take part in what I hope turns out to be a celebration of
grandma’s life, because most of you probably know that with my Grandma
Ruth, you were always bound to experience “love at first fright…I mean
sight.” In saying goodbye to grandma, in dealing, as we all must do from
time to time, with the loss of something precious, I realize that I
will never have to miss or to lose Grandma Ruth. She is only one of the
many strong women in this family whose presence I feel constantly, not
just around me, but inside of me.
It’s hard to individualize the
things we learn from different people. Grandma was the first person who
succeeded in teaching me how to blow bubbles with chewing gum. Yes, a
little Japanese woman in her seventies wrapped a jeweled turban around
her head and sat with me on the living room steps with a plastic jar
full of gum until, one by one, all the pink gum balls it contained had
been chewed up. The correlation between the jeweled turban and the
ability to blow bubbles remains a mystery to me, but I have faith that
such a connection must exist. Maybe it is only the key to forming
lasting memories.
And between the ages of five and twenty-two, what
else has my Grandma Ruth taught me? Most of our daily lives consist of
the boring and the difficult moments in which we must, among other
things, go grocery shopping, vacuum the living room, pay taxes, and get
into arguments with our loved ones. We either let these things suck the
life out of us, or we infuse these things with lots of life. Grandma put
vitality into the most mundane moments, vacuuming her living room to
Spanish radio and muttering “orders from headquarters” under her breath
every time she found herself forced into a difficult position. If she
were here today, she would say that open-mouthed frogs bring money and
rubbing the Buddha’s belly brings good luck. But at the end of the day,
it was she herself who made life rich and fortunate for those around
her. It’s funny that when I think of Grandma, I think of false
eyelashes, faux diamonds, fake nails, and imitation leopard print furs.
And yet what these things add up to, for me, is nonetheless the most
genuine person I have had in my life.
Grandma would often say that in
old age she had shrunk from five feet two to five feet tall. And
indeed, as time goes by, it seems I have a little less of her each year.
And yet, every now and then, I feel a strange urge to walk up to
strangers in restaurants or at parties—and whether it is obvious to me
that they are French or German, Senegalese or Martian, this strange and
subtle urge bubbles up into a great desire to approach them and
say…”habla espanol?”. So I’ve come to realize that as the solid memories
and the physical presence of my grandma is something that slips away
with time, the parts of her that I most loved grow stronger and more
evident in my own spirit.
In life and in death, Grandma was a free
spirit. She was always ready for the next adventure, always prepared to
get up and go. And whenever she was really ready, she got up, and she
went. Well, she’s off again, and ready or not, I’m happy to wish her off
on whatever adventures await her now, truly free, spirit. I only hope
that whoever is lucky enough to encounter her first will have the
pleasure of hearing straight from her own mouth, “Hi y’all. I just flew
in. And boy are my arms tired.”Happy trails, Grandma. I love you."
No comments:
Post a Comment