Grand Gardens
Alice Jean would be damned if anyone called her a Grandma.
So she just just took the Grand and tacked it onto the front of her name with a kiss till it stuck.
And Lord knows, she wore it as well as the fine perfume that wafted gently around her curls.
Martha Ellen planted a lilac bush in her back yard when she first moved into her house. It grew from a little bush into a tree into a thicket and was an excellent interdimensional portal that could act as the greatest fort this side of the St. Sault Marie one minute and the deepest dark woods where witches waited the next. The smell of adventure will always linger with a hint of lilacs for me.
My Grans were absolute forces of nature and I thank my lucky stars every day that I carry the love, teachings, blood and blessings of these two remarkable women. And since it’s warming up, it’s time to shake off the dust and head outside to bask in the floral glory of Spring.
I’ve spent a decade avoiding Mother’s Days. They’ve been so raw for me: a decade later and I still hold a lot of grief from losing my mother, both my grands and two of my aunties within a five year span.
Every year I think it gets better but woof… all I can usually muster is a forced smile and a hearty Fuck Cancer in my heart.
But this year is different.
I’m not avoiding the memory of the women who have gone before any longer.
I’m not hiding from the holes their absence has left behind.
I’m not shoving my grief down into bite sized chunks to be more easily swallowed and more palatable for others.
We have faith.
Because me and my Ladies?
We got shit to do.
We’re starting a business together.
And it all starts with my Grans.
GrandAlice Lane hailed from Austin, Texas and Grandma Martha Ellen came right from the middle of the Mitten State but that wasn’t the only difference between these two. In fact, on the surface, they seemed like polar opposites. When she wasn’t Nurse Practitioner at Mott’s Children’s Hospital, Grandma Martha was teaching herself how to drive a rig and spent her free days in her RV, chasing geological formations across the country, toes to the wind in the oldest, most beat Birkenstocks on this planet.
And one of these days I will finish the play about the adventures of Alice Jean and her best sisterfriend TBaby - ladies to the bone and the baddest babes anywhere they chose to go. With room service if you please. A chemist and scientist, I blame her entirely for my early addiction to the question “Why?”
Both of these women were divorced. In a time when That. Did. Not. Happen. In any community. Both of these women owned their own property. Grandma Martha kept taking college courses at the local community college until well into her late 60s and had a Facebook long before a lot of her children. GrandAlice was the hostess with the mostest and was a social alchemist with her incredible ability to make anyone feel welcome and warmed within two minutes of entering her home. Both women raised their children on prayers and shoestring budgets tied with a lotta love. Those kids became incredible human beings who continue empower the people around them with their empathy, community and kindness.
Their legacy lives on through us - a tribute to unconditional love.
A gentle reminder of the strength in vulnerability and the courage in following your own path: the power that rests within the sweetness of lilacs and jasmine.
This day can be a hard one for a lot of folks and our hearts are with you today. Lord know we all have our reasons.
Sending you and your family (by blood and/or choice) joy, laughter and tears from ours.
May you find real peace today wrapped up in the warmth of spring and fragrant with the smell of flowers.
