A MESSAGE OF LOVE ON VALENTINE'S DAY 2018

"I've always been with you. You have never been alone. I will be with you and love you forever," Grandmother softly whispered to me recently, although she left her physical body over 25 years ago. I was brought to tears, as I always thought I was alone until she whispered those words.

Of all the people in the world who should be bitter about what life dealt them, my maternal grandmother would be one of those kinds of people. We all know them. They're the ones who always have drama in their lives, and if there isn't something to complain about, they'll invariably refer to past times when something happened to make them unhappy. I avoid those people like the plague and try to change the subject quickly when I'm stuck with them. But it's mentally exhausting to be in their toxic presence.

Grandmother grew up poor with six siblings in rural Oklahoma. Her father illegally distilled alcohol on a creek running through their property. One can only imagine the crowds of people making a beeline to buy some moonshine during the Prohibition years from 1920 to 1933. During those years, life was harsh in Oklahoma, but his enterprise fed his family. Farms disappeared due to severe drought, devastating dust storms, and the Great Depression. Many would flee Oklahoma during those years in search of better land and jobs, only to face even direr circumstances as they resettled to places like California. My grandmother's family stayed and survived.

Four months before Grandmother died, my daughter and I traveled to Oklahoma to visit her. She had recently been discharged from the hospital after experiencing another chronic obstructive pulmonary disease exacerbation. I remember her suffering from many asthma attacks throughout my childhood and early adulthood, which were treated with various forms of mind-altering prescribed medications. It wasn't unusual to hear her hallucinate while simultaneously gasping for breath. Toward the end of her life, she was mostly on oxygen.

During our last visit, she was constantly coughing up massive amounts of mucus. At one point, she sighed and said, "I don't want to live anymore. It's more difficult to breathe than ever, and I'm completely deaf." I wept as the realization dawned on me that this would be the last time I would be in her presence.

She expressed sadness and regret that her daughter, my mother, never believed she was loved. She told me about falling in love with a Native American man during his trips to their farm to buy moonshine. She was 15 or 16, and he was 27. Shortly before meeting him, Grandmother described riding in the family's horse-drawn wagon on the way to town to pick up supplies. Her father suddenly stopped the horses and attempted to touch her inappropriately. Fortunately, she was able to get away from him. She believed this incident made her vulnerable to a man's attention visiting their farm. When she became pregnant, her father ran him off with a shotgun. He fled to California and was never heard from again, although his name is on my mother's birth certificate. Whites thought Indians were on par with dogs during that time, so it was not acceptable for her to marry the man she loved. Her young age, coupled with his age, gives one suspicion about sexual abuse. 

She was banished to a home for unwed mothers over the border in Kansas, where my mother was born. Grandmother kept the baby, lived with her parents, and endured a certain amount of shame. It would have been far easier to give her up for adoption, even though times were hard and biracial babies were unlikely to be in demand.

When my mother was four, my Grandmother married an oil field worker and birthed six more children. Grandmother raised her daughter for four years while living with her parents. Young girls with babies were not allowed to attend school, so she only went as far as the eighth grade. Amazingly, she proudly received her GED when she was 60 years old.

Grandmother was the most loving person I ever knew. I always wanted to sit at her feet and bask in her light. The happiest times of my childhood were while staying with her. My grandmother never missed a chance to tightly hug me while telling me I was loved. A bonus was having uncles and an aunt near my age; even today, they are equally as loving as their mother.

It felt like the rug had been pulled out from under my feet when she died. She frequently told me that I would always have a home with her no matter what. I was doing well professionally, but knowing that my grandmother would provide a safety net should I need it gave me the courage to carry on.

Some might not think it's a big deal that Grandmother came to tell me that she loved me and would always be with me. They might pronounce that God loves us, too, but God isn't tangible to me like my grandmother.

It is a wonderful gift to know that my grandmother will be with me forever! 💗