Familiar

A month ago, my grandmother died. She was 90 years old, and had been in nursing homes for the last 7 years of her life. Even though she suffered from dementia and didn't recognize her loved ones for her last few years, her genuine smile and optimistic spirit remained until the very end. 

I grew up very close to my grandmother. I spent summers at her house, every day while my parents worked. There was no shortage of adventures -- baking angel food cake from scratch, playing with my mom's 1950s Barbies, and reading aloud from her favorite poetry anthology, The Treasury of the Familiar. 

The book was very special to Grandma. She received it as a gift from her sister in 1945, and it's well worn pages, bookmarked poems, and underlined phrases indicated it had been there with her through many years & experiences. The first poem I ever memorized was from that book (The Swing, by Robert Louis Stevenson). In her later years, I would read poems when I went to visit her. Though she couldn't recognize faces, something in those words soothed her, let her escape from the prison her mind held her in. 

That anthology now sits on my desk, well worn and creased as ever. It has become one of my most treasured possessions. Looking through those pages, browning with age, I feel connected to a beautiful, vibrant woman who passed along her love of arts & culture and genuine smile to me. 

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with a passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. - Elizabeth Barrett Browning