I was going to make this a series of pictures commemorate my grandmother, my Memere. She passed away this week at the age of 92. It was going to be part of Wordless Wednesday. Obviously I failed.
At her 90th birthday, February 2010
She went to an all girls high school where she played basketball and even in her 80s she still kept in touch with her classmates.
She married later than most women of her time but she was busy. She still produced four incredible children. I often try to follow the rules she had for raising a brood. On the days that I remember them I feel like a better mother.
She was a concert pianist who recorded records, played on the radio and was a member of The Beethoven Club. Something I thought was incredibly loud and yet painfully dull when she brought me to meetings as a child. Music was her first love.
She would still play Chopsticks for me whenever I asked. Though my real favorite was when she played Rachmaninoff. Hers was Chopin.
She let me use her powder puff, pink Dove soap and watermelon pink lipstick and watch as she brushed her false teeth. Something I found freakishly funny.
She learned to drive when I was in college. I remember quizzing her on Driver’s Ed from my dorm room phone. I thought, “I want to still learn new things when I am her age. I want to be undaunted.”
She liked to hold your hand and squeeze it real tight. That’s my best and last memory of her. That even at 90 and with Alzheimer’s that particular way of holding my hand was still there. It made a long trip with a pukey baby all worth it. Just to feel that again as I had so many times as a child and adult. It brought immense comfort just as it always had in the past.
Playing to The Comedian.
The memories of stories read, car rides sitting in her lap listening to Big Band music, coat pockets that revealed hidden candy and small jams from restaurant breakfasts that were now just for me come bubbling up. Care packages filled with treats and long hand-written letters were part of my college existence. When it was time for her and my grandfather to move into assisted living she gave me her new Kitchen-aid mixer. The one she received as a wedding present having just broken. She filled boxes with mixing bowls, small housewares and porcelain keepsakes for me and my first place. A small, wooden end table painted many times over became TD’s nightstand by her first big girl bed. It now resides in my room as a catchall. I stripped over six layers of paint that showcased the varying color trends she passed through while it was in her possession.
She was thoughtful, caring, full of love for family and life.
She was funny, a real Ms. Manners and someone my grandfather teasingly called “Madame Portefeuille”. It translates to Madam Pocketbook. She loved beautiful clothes and hats with pins. She never left the house without lipstick and her purse always matched her shoes. While I may mix it up shoe/purse-wise I don’t leave the house without lipstick. On the rare times I do, her face drifts across my mind.
She will be missed more than any words, stories or pictures can ever express. I continuously strive to be more like her. I think I always will.
Beatrice Lafleur Gelinas was a truly great woman. She will be forever missed and always remembered.
I’m sorry for your loss. My grandmother was almost the same age as yours, and while some of the details are so different, there was something about ladies of that era. I’m glad for the influence, still. Losing her was the worst.
Your Memere sounds charming and devoted. I’m so glad you had her in your life.
A beautifully written tribute to one special woman. What sweet memories, which you will always carry. I know she is so proud of the woman you have become.
So well written. I’m jealous of all the memories you have of her that I could only dream of! However, I remember her the exact same way. I couldn’t have said it any better. Looking forward to you sharing some good Memere stories with me on Tuesday 🙂