16 Years Old

Eva turned 16 yesterday.  Like most sixteen-year-olds she’s happy to have her driver’s license.  She’s been saving to purchase a car.  She and her brother, Brady, are very different in that regard.  Eva is a saver and Brady does his best to keep the economy going.

Over the past several months, I’ve seen a big change in Eva.  She’s always been pretty, but she’s beautiful now.  She’s transitioning between being a girl and becoming a woman.  She’s not working on it, it’s just happening.

I saw her confidence rising during last spring’s track season.  She got better as the season progressed, and her personal success changed the way she carried herself.  She was never cocky, but she smiled more, spoke like she had something to say, and was more open to sharing her thoughts about the world.  I’m very proud of her.

Last September I asked everyone in our immediate family to write something about Ruth. Each of us recorded our thoughts.  When we were done, we had created a forty-five-minute tribute to share at Ruth’s memorials.  The first was held last December in Florida and the second in Michigan last June.  Some visitors spoke of Ruth after each presentation.

As June approached, Eva asked David if she could redo her part of the program as she had more to say.  He suggested that she just speak after the video presentation.  This is what she said.

I’ve redone my message since the first memorial because of my new grown perspective. This probably sets the scene for you to believe it’s gotten sadder. Even though losing one of the most influential people in my life has been really hard, I also now view the ability to speak about her in front of all of you as a blessing. If my nana was sitting among you, she would be wondering what I’m standing in front of a microphone doing.

My grandma, or as many of you probably know by now, Nana, has set example after example of the kind of person I strive to be. She was kind, but not to the extent where she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. She wouldn’t let anyone walk over her, which are traits I’ve always admired, especially when I was little and afraid to speak my mind. Not a single outing would go without a tug on her sleeve followed by a nervous “Nana can you ask” or “Nana can you go with me to”.

She also taught my brother and me to wander and explore.  Nana never stopped exploring, learning, and growing. Gaining new passions, traveling to new places and meeting new people. My nana is also responsible for most of the passions in my brother and my life, from baking to card collecting, and sports. We wouldn’t go without hearing her blaring screams from the stands.  Wooop!  Wooop!

This is consistent among everyone’s words you have and will continue to hear. She was consistent and present for those she loved. If that meant doing one of her many hobbies together, a personalized quote, “I saw this and remembered” Christmas presents, a warm hug, her baking and cooking, or one of our conversations in which she would tell me she’s proud even after the little things.

With my nana I always knew I was seen and heard. But what I’m trying to get at is, in terms of showing her love my nana covered the bases. She brought color and fun to my childhood, like an adventure that could consist of pretty much anything. With my nana ice cream became breakfast and extra fabric became superhero capes. But it was always clear that my nana’s overall goal was always to make us happy. But time has also taught me that she isn’t gone. I know that for a fact. Her legacy continues on in the people she loved and has been loved by. I can’t speak for anyone else, but a part of her will always be with me, and I will strive to make her proud. 

Don’t you worry.  She is.