R.I.P. roey

a year ago this morning, the world woke up, and my grandmother didn't. i would be lying if i didn't admit it was with a great sense of relief.

i don't know too many people who get to be both grandparent and grandchild at the same family party. it was not a line i walked with any relish. yet in retrospect, i see that this dance across five generations, difficult as it may have been, offered me a view of the Big Picture most people never have a chance to see.

but my grandmother wasn't a typical grandmother - she didn't bake cookies (though she'd buy them for me), she didn't cuddle or kiss or sing. she was the embodiment of tough love and living proof that that which does not kill us makes us strong. that i was her "chosen one" was like being adopted by a cobra - you just never knew where or when it might turn on you.

my pet name for her was commander.

in her last years, my grandmother seemed to enjoy most of all sending me to fetch things for her from all corners of a house the size of a battleship. the first time i brought my little beagle, she trotted after me quite eagerly everywhere i went ... for the first half hour of our three day visit. then sam parked herself in the hallway in the middle of the house, content to watch me rush back and forth. i remember how she wagged her tail every time i passed as if to cheer me on. i could always count on leaving the shore at least five pounds lighter than when i arrived, because going to see my grandmother was more like boot camp than vacation.

but that which does not kill us does indeed make us strong. my experience this past spring with my former business associate showed me that from my grandmother, i've inherited the ability to cut a cord when it needs to be cut. if i'm a bit more judicious in applying that ability, i know i've had a lot of blessings my grandmother didn't.

so rest well, commander... we've both earned it.

and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.