gram.

For 2 years, Gram has fought her way through pancreatic cancer.  I don’t use the word “fought” lightly.  She was a fighter in every sense of the word – a whipple surgery for a woman well into her 80’s was unheard of, followed by chemotherapy and radiation, but never once did she let that awful disease define her.  She kept her smile until the end… the very end.

A week ago, I made the trip to St. Louis for what, I am certain, will remain one of the hardest conversations I will ever have in my life.  After all, how do you say everything you need to say to someone who has been one of your greatest life inspirations, knowing that it will be the last time you can speak to them alive?

When I went in to say some final words to Gram, I started crying. She said to me “don’t you start crying now” and I said to her “I’ve given you 2 years of not crying when I talk to you, but I get to have this time now.”   Gram smiled and said “ok.”  Stubborn she was.  But reasonable she was too.  She has always been the voice of reason.

I said to her “I don’t know if I have all the words” and she responded with, “you don’t need any words.  I can feel it from you.  You don’t need to say anything at all.”  Always the voice of reason.  I stroked her hand and tried my best to tell her everything I needed to say.  My kids had the chance to hug her, kiss her and tell her how much they love her too.  Those few days, as hard as they were, were also a gift that I will never forget.

When I was 6 years old, and was absolutely obsessed with animals, Gram made me a promise that when I turned 16, she would take me on a trip to Africa, or anywhere else in the world that I wanted to go.  I even made her sign a little paper note promising that we would go on that trip together.  I forgot all about the promise after that conversation, but when my 16th birthday neared, she reminded me of the conversation and asked me to choose my dream trip.

Africa had some major outbreak, and a ban on all visitors, so off we went to Italy, me, Gram, Gramps, and my cousin, Emily.  On one of our many Italian adventures, Emily and I asked them the difference between an uncircumcised and circumcised penis (don’t judge – they were always willing to answer any and all questions and we had just seen the statue of David).  Gramps didn’t hesitate for even a second to pull out a pen and illustrate for us the difference on a shopping bag. When Emily and I were mortified to walk down the street holding that shopping bag, Gram proudly carried it.  She taught us all, every minute of every day, to love our husbands (and wives), no matter how many wrong turns they made.  Always the voice of reason.

Through the teenage years, all of us grandchildren did some pretty naughty things.  Not naming any names, but “borrowing” cars before turning 16, piercing body parts, sneaking out, having a drink or two before our 21st birthday,  and having significant others who were way too old for us were on our list.  Somehow, Gram and Gramps always laughed it off, with that sparkle in their eyes, and managed to find the silver lining in the situation.  I don’t ever remember her raising her voice or being angry with us, yet she was always the voice of reason.

When I found out that I was pregnant with Asher, Gram didn’t wait for me to tell her.  Literally, the morning after I took a pregnancy test for the first time, I had a voice mail on my phone from Gram.  I called her back and she said, “I had the most vivid dream that you were pregnant and having a boy.  Are you pregnant?”  I was, and I did.  We were worried that she might not want us to name him after her (Jewish people don’t normally name babies after the living), but we wanted her to know how truly important she is to us.  She loved the idea and explained to us that it would be an honor for him to be named after her.  Asher Dylan is named after my Gram, Doris, and his hebrew name, Doron (meaning “gift”) and Asher (meaning “blessed”)  has always been a gift and I am so forever thankful that he is named after the beautiful woman who was always the voice of reason.

The morning Asher was born, I called Gram to tell her.  We talked for a few minutes and she asked me what time he was born.  I told her that Asher had entered the world at 4:18 am.   She laughed and said that she had woken up at 4:00 am with horrible stomach pains, which she now knew was her body telling her that I was in labor.  We always had that special connection and of course she was always the voice of reason.

She traveled to more places than I can name in a single list, volunteered for more organizations than I even knew existed, and made an impact on countless lives – those still here are her 3 children, her brother, 3 step-children, 10 grandchildren,  7 great-grandchildren, and the love of her life, my Gramps, and countless others whom she loved deeply with all her heart.   Gram and Gramps had a marriage that has been a true example for how to love deeply and unconditionally.   Gram always told us that the secret to her marriage was to keep laughing and to make sure to dance.  And I’m certain that in each of her trips, experiences, and interactions, she managed to find a way to still be the voice of reason.

I know I will never forget her voice – the one that has impacted me so greatly and helped mold me into the person I am today.  I hope I can always remember the smell of the dove soap in her bathrooms, the taste of her rugelach cookies,  the touch of her soft skin, the way she made everyone feel special and loved, and the twinkle in her eye.  And I can only hope to someday be like her, strong, courageous, brave and so full of love and kindness.  But most of all, I hope that I can be that voice of reason for others, the way she has always been for me.