Ruth

Last Thursday morning, my grandmother passed away at the age of 92. She would've been 93 in a couple of weeks but she was as sharp and as funny as she had ever been. Her funeral was on Sunday and close to 70 people showed up to mourn her loss. I wasn't surprised, as my grandmother was the kind of person who made a lasting impression on everyone who met her. She was simply a character in the best sense of the word. What follows is a tribute I wrote for her funeral and I'd like to share it here.

When I think about my grandmother, there isn't any significant memory that stands out in my mind. Instead, I remember a million tiny moments. Like a photo album filled with snapshots, these memories scatter across my mental landscape like a continual stream of conscious.

I find this ironic since the definition of stream of conscious is:

"unedited and unfiltered thinking; a spontaneous and continuous flow of thoughts"

Anyone who knows my Grandmother knows that she was the essence of stream of conscious thinking.

One minute talking about how "so and so" just had a baby and then in a split second talking about a hurricane in Florida. As if the two events had something to do with each other.

Those who knew her well were familiar with the swiftness with which she changed topics and we learned to keep up. So, if you'll allow me to take a page from her book, I wanted to share some of my own stream of conscious memories of grandma:

The fact that there were always cookies on the counter in the kitchen and she made sure no one left her house without eating something.


Watching Young and the Restless everyday after lunch.


Playing cards at the kitchen table and her exasperation when Grandpa would always win.


Hanging out on the front porch as neighbors and friends would always stop by to visit.


Playing tic-tac-toe and hangman with me in church to keep me occupied and entertained.


The fact that she never took herself too seriously and didn't have a self-conscious bone in her body.


Her lap…which was like sinking into a soft cloud of baby powder and Jean Nate.


The sound of big band music floating through the kitchen while she would sing and dance in her apron.

This was my grandmother.

There is a quote that says,

"Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die."

It is this thought that gives me comfort during this time, because Grandma did indeed love her life.

And with her passing, I know that the sun will now shine a little brighter.
Because to me she was like the sun. A force of nature always radiating warmth and comfort as she touched the lives of the people who revolved around her.

With that said, shine on Grandma.

You will be so very very missed.

Even Mother Warriors Need A Vacation

After a self-imposed sabbatical I am back. I apologize for the absence but quite frankly I needed a break. Besides the fact that my new job renders me somewhat incoherent by day’s end, the truth is I’ve just been so sick of all things autism that I was longing for distraction.

For me, distraction came in the way of reconnecting with old friends (love Facebook!), going out to dinner with my husband (no kids allowed), and simply playing with and enjoying my kids for exactly who they are. No fretting about Ryan’s inability to sit still. No hand-wringing over Justin’s hoarding (which had disappeared but is now back with a vengeance).

It wasn’t easy, but it was definitely necessary.

Sometimes this journey feels like climbing a steep and icy slope. Then, just when you feel you have your footing, you feel yourself slip. If you’re lucky you catch yourself and recover. But sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you have to have the wherewithal to know when you’re tired and just be still.

But I’m back. I may not write as often because, honestly after working all day the last thing I want to do write. My original intent in writing was for having an outlet not an obligation.

Having said that, Christmas will be kicking into high gear soon and I’m sure I will have lots to write about. Until then, have a wonderful holiday and I’ll talk to you soon.