the kitty tent
There is a silence in my heart greater than anything I have ever known.
It is:
A silence that is
EMPTY, with the knowledge of her absence,
A silence that is
HOLLOW, with the ache for her to be again beside me,
A silence that is
STRONG, with the wisdom she imparted everyday, in every way.
and it is:
A silence that is
FULL, with the grace and compassion, kindness and warmth, love and friendship she gave.
For 41 years, without lapse, my grandmother has been a nourishing force in my life — as consistent and necessary as water and air.
She holds many names: Gram, Isabel, Belle, Mum, Great Gram …
She gave import to her name: Isabel Wheeler Haselgard Gray.
She wasn’t attached in an arrogant or superficial way, but with an understanding of that intangible thread that links us all together — links us to her, her ancestors, her people, her community — links us all.
Gram understood the universal language — the language without words.
The morning she passed away, I was adamant that I wouldn’t walk back into that room, without her there, to view her — the shell of her body. But, when my mother asked me to come and sit with her, I relented. We entered the room together, I held one of my grandmother’s hands, my mother held her other, and I held my mother’s. We formed a circle: three generations of Gray women, and I realized, in that moment, that we will always be intimately connected.
A friend sent me these words:
“Rest assured that in her dying, in her flight through darkness toward a new light, she held you in her arms, and carried your closeness with her. And when she arrived at God, your image was imprinted on her joy-filled soul.”
Again my grandmother teaches me, even now, more so now, to be open to more, to be more than I am…
The last time I spoke with her she said to me: “you’re my hero, never stop trying to fly higher.” Ever the mentor. Ever my mentor.
Gram was a questor — of knowledges and personal journeys — always asking why. Spurring me to do the same. She wanted to know, she wanted to understand, she wanted to connect with people, to grow, to follow life’s journey without hesitation. She infused my world with her spry mind, embracing spirit, and boundless soul.
Despite everything that she lived through and experienced — the Great Depression, two World Wars and then some, the deaths of her parents and sisters, the death of the love of her life, her husband Jack, despite an array of unkind and selfish souls, family misfortunes — despite it all, because of it all, she remained generous and selfless, avoided bitterness, remained unafraid, and upheld how important the heart is.
Gram was a lot, to a lot of us.
She was elegant and taught me the ways of finery, manners and style.
She was creative and gave me the gifts of her painting and embroidery.
She was musical and filled my life with the sounds of her flute, organ and voice.
She was witty and lent many a verse to my milestones and achievements.
She was forgiving and understood that to err is a part of living.
She was patient and stretched my notions of time and immediacy.
She was insightful and pushed me to think and live more deeply.
She was spiritual and led me to seek my own connections to the godly.
Too, she was lighthearted and encouraged me to have fun. Gram always liked fun!
But beyond all, she taught me the invaluable awareness of the simple pleasures in everyday:
The joy of birds feeding and building their nests …
Gram’s homes always included homes for her feathered friends.
The brilliance of a full moon …
Not a month would go by that I wouldn’t receive a call reminding me to go outside and turn my face to the heavens.
The profoundness of gentle touch …
Gram gave hug-filled greetings without reserve or hesitation.
The richness of really listening to another …
When Gram and I would sit down for a talk, she would stare into my eyes in a way that I knew she cared about every word I was saying.
The deliciousness of a 5 o’clock cocktail hour …
Gram taught me not only how to mix the perfect highball and frozen daiquiri, but how to sit and enjoy the company with it.
Too she cherished the simple pleasures of:
The haunting echo of loons calling out on Long Lake …
The rumble of our resolute Gloucester surf …
The fiery quietude of a sunset sliding down over Fort Myers Beach …
She cherished:
The smell of pine needles and campfires …
The personal connection in a handwritten note …
The moments when we can laugh at ourselves, and each other …
The love found and given in simple gestures and kindnesses …
Gram was all that I have spoken of and more than I can say. She shared herself with me in all these ways. She has been my dearest friend, my closest confidant, my ever-present shoulder to cry on, my steadfast fanclub, my role-model and greatest teacher, my buddy.
The silence in my heart will stay on with me. The emptiness of her absence — this hollow, unbearable ache will eventually dissipate. But the silence that contains her fullness and strength will resonate in awe, and honor, and love of all she was and continues to be.
ISABEL WHEELER HASELGARD GRAY
September 7, 1918 – September 9, 2009
