Remarkable

To my Grannie,

I’ve been thinking about you a lot these days. My world is so different than yours was, but there are similarities that shine through. I know that I wouldn’t be where I am today without you and the stories of your strength keep me going when times feel dark.

I can’t imagine what it was like to leave everything you knew, move to a new country and build a homestead in Northern Alberta, Peace River country. You were so young, barely as old as my stepdaughter is now, and you and your uncle travelled north from the States on horseback on the promise of good land. You made it, you built a home and thrived. I left home at seventeen to join the military. It seemed so daunting to fly across the country to start my own life, but I knew that you had survived more. I knew I would be able to make it.

When influenza devastated so many in 1918, you didn't seem to be afraid. Maybe you were, but you knew that there was work to be done. You visited your neighbours, sometimes by snowshoe, to nurse them and share food when they needed it. How many lives did you save? Now in the midst of our own pandemic, I find myself afraid and worried for the future. I think of you, draw on your strength, and I know that I will be strong for my family to weather whatever comes.

When your children were grown, you left your home and moved back to the States to work in the Canadian embassy. Was it scandalous? No one in the family talks much about grandpa. It feels like you made sure that your family was capable of living without you before you departed the expected route to take a different path. My family is still young, but I see a crossroads in my future where I might be able to reinvent myself and start a new career. Knowing that you made it gives me hope that I can take risks to do something I truly love.

I know that things weren’t always good. You had cancer, and beat it by being brave enough to be among the earliest recipients of radiation therapy. You took the train across the country to find the help that you needed to save your life. You beat it twice, which is nothing short of amazing. Cancer scares me to my core, you give me hope in the dark.

I love that you came home to Peace River country when your family needed you again. You had adventures and excitement, and it seems like you did it fearlessly with no regrets. Coming back wasn’t a surrender or retirement, it was simply moving on to the next phase of your life, the one where you became our Grannie. Within the entirety of our family, there has only ever been one Grannie.

I remember visiting you and you knew who I was. I was one of multiple generations of children, yet you knew me and loved me. I don’t have enough of those memories. I remember reading The Canadian Children's Treasury that I found in your home. I loved that book, and you noticed. One year you gave it to me, inscribed by your impeccable handwriting and adorned with the flowers you drew on all messages to family. That book now sits proudly on my own daughter’s bookshelf. Sometimes I tell her stories about you, I wish that you could have met her.

You were an old lady when I met you, but nothing seemed to slow you down. You were always out in the town, helping the old people (they were maybe twenty years younger than you, but it was impossible to tell). Others might say that you were losing your memory or that your hearing was going, but my dad and I knew the truth. Anybody that you didn’t feel was worth listening to, you didn’t give them a moment of your attention. When you remembered my name and spoke to me, I felt important, I felt noticed.

The adventures that you packed into your lifetime surely you earned the right to choose who was worth your words and focus. I try to internalize that, remind myself that I am worthwhile and those who I choose to interact with must be deserving of my attention.

I can’t imagine anyone as fiercely independent as you. The home that I visited you in was your own, you cared for it yourself until your last days. Your whole family loved you and you would have been surrounded by helping hands if you had ever needed, but you didn’t. I never believed that you were too proud or stubborn, you were simply capable and ensured that help went where it was needed. That strength of spirit, of giving without asking, is immeasurable.

I remember the violets you grew in your home. Whenever I see violets now, I think of you.

Sometimes I feel like we are connected and that I’m more like you than anyone else. But then I worry that I’m not living up to all that you did. When those feelings hit, I imagine that you would have told me to stop thinking that way, and you wouldn’t have minced words. You lived for yourself and you did what was right. You were unflinchingly practical while also caring selflessly. I keep that in my heart, I give what I can while making sure that I take care of myself. You showed me that the stronger I am, the more I am able to give.

I hope to be as strong as you. I hope to be Grannie to my own family one day. I hope to be remarkable.

I love and miss you,

Your great-great-granddaughter

Grannie was born in the year 1900 and passed away at the age of 97. I was 12 years old at the time. She lived alone until she broke her hip. I believe that she didn’t like being beholden to others and simply decided that it was time to go. My Grannie was like that, not that she wouldn't ask for help, but that she cared more about being able to help others. And when she couldn't do that anymore, she left.