For Framma

For you Framma, words to send you off.  Wherever you may be going and whatever journey for your soul lays ahead your life here on earth mattered.  Without you there would have been no Mom for me, or Nani for my four.  Without you I would not have learned how to play cribbage, the art of a handwritten letter, the connection with nature, how to breathe in fresh air or sleep under the stars.  A privilege anytime I went camping with you.  I have always admired your bravery, your willingness to go your own way and the unapologetic manner in which you lived your life.  There were times it was confusing to me but as I’ve grown I have carried that adventurous spirit within me.  I have learned from your stories.  Questioned your mistakes and wondered about your childhood.  I’m certain you shielded so much in order to spare us the hurt and sorrow that cloaked your heart.  When you smiled it was almost as if I could hear a bit of that shell crack and I witnessed a glimmer of the light within.  It was beautiful, as you were.  You were a risk taker.  Leaving a city you knew when a divorce came, starting businesses, even at the age of 75 and never fearing that the risk might not produce a reward.  Life was worth living and if not contrary to the norm than why at all?  I always considered you to be on the fringe.  And I think that inspired me in so many ways.  You said more with your silence than your words and I thank you for teaching me valuable lessons in how not to live, as well.  I have you to thank, in part, for my love of the ocean.  Water has been grounding for me, a place to connect to myself and I feel that it will always be a place that reminds me of you.  I suppose that is what happens when you have a grandmother who moves to an island, collects shells and sand dollars and lives with geckos in her house; a grandmother who bucks tradition wearing electric island colors and Birkenstock sandals to your wedding.  Framma, our letter writing kept me connected to family at a time when I didn’t even know who I was.  There was never judgment or shaming or should have’s with you, just a grandmother and granddaughter, writing and sharing our lives as they were.   I thought some grand poetic words would flow and I’d be able to accurately portray the Framma I knew and loved.  I’m not sure that is being accomplished here but I am finding that this letter to you is cathartic.  When we began writing again last year I realized how much I had missed that connection with you.  I am grateful.  Grateful that my children have memories of visiting you in AZ, of you hanging out by the pool with us, of you and I hovering over the cribbage board and you always winning and exploring the desert wildlife with you.  Those are some of the same memories I have of you as well.  Weekends spent camping with PWP.  Playing board games, exploring and not showering for a few days.  Learning how to pitch a tent, cook on the Coleman and roast a mean marshmallow.  We played and you never once told me not to get dirty.  Heaven on earth for this tomboy!  I never had to be anything other than myself with you.  There are countless memories and twists and turns in the story of your life, those are not for me to tell.  This toast and prayer is for you.  In honor of the life you lived, the people you loved and the memories we carry with us.   Thank you for it all.  You have shaped our lives with yours and loved us the best you could.  I’ll carry on and when I hear the waves crashing on the shore, or find a whole sand dollar buried deep in the sand I’ll think of you.  When steel drums are playing in the background my mind will drift to breezy island days and mocko jumbies towering tall and the smile on your face when you felt free.  I love you Framma, here’s to you.  Peace and Love always. 

Lani xo