The Extraordinary Ordinary Life of Gram

My grandma was ninety three and a half when she died in 2006. By normal standards she lived a long life. But for those who loved her, it wasn’t long enough. But then again, for those you love, it’s never long enough.

Gram, as we called her, taught me many things. By her example, I learned that one doesn’t need to be important in a worldy way to be important in a noble way. She showed what it means to be generous, even from a place of scarcity. How seemingly small acts of service can, for others, be life changing moments. How working hard and being willing to do whatever needs to be done is an important life skill and an expression of love. These lessons and so many more were reflected in her life every day.

My beloved Gram, 92, during my visit back to South Africa in 2005. This was my last visit with her.

Gram was a foundational part of so many of our lives, mine included. Born in 1913 in Krugersdorp, South Africa, she lived through so many transformative world and life experiences. From World War 1 to the depression, World War 2, apartheid, not to mention all the changes in technology and lifestyle that she witnessed. Gram’s life experiences moulded her as they do and, to me, she was a beautiful combination of strength, resilience, determination and creativity combined with humility, pragmatism, frugality, stubborness, selfless love and a very witty sense of humor.

Hers was a life of service to our family. Gram lived very simply and humbly. What she had, she used cautiously for herself and shared generously with others. By worldly standards her life may have seemed unremarkable. Gram never had an important job, she didn’t acquire wealth and material things and she didn’t wear fancy clothes. Her face was always clear of make up and she had a short, practical hairstyle. She had a small portable black and white TV but kept it in her cupboard because she seldom watched it or even listened to the radio. I remember her telling me several times that she had never been dancing. This always made me sad to think about because I wanted her to have a life of fun, experiencing the joy of frivolity and adventure. But in hindsight, I realize that the life Gram led was an extraordinary one in all the ways that really matter.

Gram had a gift for making things special and beautiful. For someone who didn’t worry about anything fancy for herself, she produced some true works of art. When my mom was a little girl, Gram designed and made the most gorgeous dresses for her. As a teenager and young adult, my mom could get Gram to make her a fashionable dress in an afternoon as long as she made her a cup of tea and stayed out of her way. Hard to believe but she actually crocheted a tablecloth with sewing cotton! I can’t fathom how that was even possible but she did it and it was the most beautiful, ethereal creation you can imagine, almost like a spider’s web. And she always made the yummiest things to eat, presented in a way that made them extra tasty. I always maintained that even when she made me a simple slice of toast and marmite, it just tasted different and special. Perhaps it was her extra ingredient of love.

Some of my favorite memories of visiting her as kids were the times that Mother SlipperSlopper and Mr SnottyGobble stopped by. We’d hear a knock at the door and would run to answer only to find no-one there. But, on the doorstep, we always found a small bowl of treats for us. We’d run outside to see if we could catch sight of Mother SlipperSlopper and Mr SnottyGobble but for some strange reason, we never did!

My Gram was a walker, well into her eighties. She was known on the Bluff, where we lived, by her walking. When she wasn’t walking, she was busy cleaning, cooking or crocheting. When she took a nap in the afternoon, it wasn’t on her bed but curled up in her chair. She always said she was like a cat and I think she was because I have no idea how that was comfortable. Her bed was piled high with pillows and when I slept over, she would let me sleep there and I luxuriated in the delight of the pillow heaven.

As I got older, I would often sit next to Gram. I’d hold her hand and can still clearly feel the rough skin of her hands in mine. Her hands didn’t know lotion, they knew work. Her face had the same roughness to it and also hadn’t had the benefit of moisturiser to ease the years. But she was beautiful. Gram was beautiful in a way that cannot be bought. For those who loved her and were loved by her, she left a legacy that has impacted each of our lives in deep and profound ways. She lives on in each of us in ways that we can’t express and may not even consciously know. She loved us fearlessly, unconditionally and completely and that is a most wonderful thing.

As ordinary as her life may have seemed to others, it was anything but that to us. In every way it was an extraordinary life, so well lived.

I love you my Gram, always and forever, your Mrs. Rose.