My grandma, a.k.a. Grace Brown, died yesterday.
It’s times like these that I desperately wish I could have had more memories to draw on and enjoy. Strangely enough, I regret not spending more time being around her, learning from her, and joking with her, knowing full well that if I had it would only make her passing more painful.
The memories I do have of grandma consist of good times playing on her crossword solver, laughing (with her) about her flappy arms, being amazed at the ‘lap table’ she had with the pillow underneath and plenty of picnics on sunny afternoons at The Mount, with Grandma watching in enjoyment as we threw the Frisbee around. Most of all, though, I remember her laugh. Grandma had a laugh quite unlike any other old person I know. When she had a chuckle it communicated much more than that something was funny, it somehow reflected a freedom and zest for life that was truly inspiring. Her giggles communicated a deep contentment with life, a contentment that stemmed from having lived and loved with all she had, but also from a secure awareness that God has things under control. When Grandma laughed it was impossible not to laugh with her, and it’s those enduring memories that I will cherish the most.
Grandma has left an incredible legacy, being a family and friends who have learnt and grown so much because of her example. The foundations that she laid can most clearly be seen in the lives of her family who are left, in the way they live out their faith and contribute to society. I feel privileged to count myself as part of the heritage that she was so crucial in establishing.
I’m pretty ripped that I won’t be able to get to the funeral, and right now Dunedin seems so far away. But yeah, if you’re part of the whanau and you’re reading this, know that I’m thinking of you all.
Grandma, you will be missed.