Namesake

“When the grandmothers speak, the earth will be healed.”

-Hopi Proverb

Sometimes when we lose someone we lose a friend, a connection, and a handful of memories. Other times, though, we lose someone and the ground shifts where we stand. You know as soon as it happens that life has made a hard right and there’s no going back to the way life was before.

My family has always been close, and that is mostly thanks to Memee, one of the Nells who inspired this company name. She was a force. If you’ve ever heard the saying about being the woman that when she opens her eyes in the morning, the Devil groans and says “Oh no, she’s up” That was my Memee. She gave the Devil hell (no pun intended) every day. She was fire incarnated and she used that fire to better the lives of the people around her. She wrote, drew, sewed, played piano, reared children, danced, shot guns, and loved animals. She lost her parents young, and I think that made her the matriarch she was to our family. She could dictate our family history back four generations at least without references. She wrote plays and collected family heirlooms for us. She wasn’t always gentle, but she was formidable, and we never doubted her love.

You could feel the family heartbeat when she walked into a room. Every Christmas she filled stockings she handmade with goodies and trinkets and always included an orange. One year when I was little I decided my favorite color was orange and every present she gave me was orange. She never forgot anything. She always called and sang happy birthday to every one of her kids and grand-kids, and you could hear her smiling on the other end of the phone. The only things she loved maybe more than her family were her animals. Every cat had a personality, and she would tell you what they were thinking in their own voices. She always cried if we drove by roadkill, even if it was just a squirrel.

She was a breast cancer survivor, but she never talked about it. After her surgery she stayed with us a while and her friends would send flowers or offer to visit, but she wouldn’t have anyone making a fuss over her. She wouldn’t hesitate to make a fuss over anyone she loved, though. She always put herself very last, much to the bane of her family.

She was a strong woman, and never took no for an answer. But even as strong-willed as she was, she was not hard to love.

There were so many people at her funeral, they had to print more programs and seat people in the balcony. She was always ready with a laugh or a look or even the occasional eye-roll. Even the people who have known her her whole life can attest to her spunk. She stared down a judge who claimed her dog was vicious. Knowing better, she brought her dog to court and showed everyone he couldn’t hurt a fly. I’m convinced she wasn’t afraid of anything. I know in my mind that’s not possible, but if you knew her, you’d know what I mean. She never blinked an eye at adversity, and she had her fair share. But she always took it in stride.

My Memee was always so full of life, she inspired so much of mine. I remember going to her church, and no kid likes to sit through long sermons. Memee would draw Christmas Mouse on the bulletins and giggle with us when we tried to replicate it. Then she’d laugh at us when we were chastised by our mother for being disruptive.

She helped raise my sister and I while our mom was single. When I think about those times I smell porcupine meatballs and stuffed peppers. I remember blanket forts in the living room, singing the moon song in the car, and dressing up in her clothes. I remember the elaborate shaped birthday cakes she made, and how she never missed anything. She’d drive hours to come see me sing a solo line that lasted ten seconds and then go on and on about how good I did after. She came to every basketball game even though I mostly just sat the bench.

Even after I got married she came to all my husband’s concerts and watched me sing in the choir on TV. And when her health prevented her from coming to one event, she called me and apologized and felt so awful. I told her not to worry about it, but she still wanted to know how she could watch it online.

She was the best grandmother, and we didn’t deserve her.

When I was little, we would stay with her during the school breaks and she tried to teach me how to ride a bike. I would hide in the bathroom, and she would yell my name from the church parking lot across the street. I was so afraid to fall, but she never gave up on me. For weeks we repeated this ritual, until one day my friend wanted to ride bikes and I begged her to teach me. After heckling me for a minute, she picked up my bike, and I was up on two wheels by the end of the afternoon.

She always forced me to order “something green” when we went to a restaurant. My picky eating frustrated her to the core. I wasn’t allowed to modify orders when we went out. “she’ll take it as it comes.” She’d tell the order taker. I would cry and cry and she would just wait for me to be done. Then she’d tell me a lady is not difficult. I didn’t understand it then, but she was always teaching me to be better than I was.

The friend I wanted to ride bikes with was her neighboor’s son. We played together all the time, and one weekend he asked me to go with him to see The Road to El Dorado (a brand new movie!) We were both maybe seven or eight, so we of course needed a chauffeur. Memee grabbed a few magazines, loaded us up into the car, and took us to the next town over to see the movie in the one-show theater. She waited in the car for us during the whole movie without complaint.

She left behind a legacy of memories and love that will go unmatched. For me, she inspires my drive and perseverance. For my family, she inspires solidarity, and unconditional love in action. For her friends, she reminds them to look forward, instead of back, and for her animals, she leaves them with lipstick kisses that take up their whole face.

She is in the name of this company because she was fierce and unfailing. She blossomed in adversity and impressed huge lessons into the hearts of so many people and animals alike. She was a southern lady, a grandmother, a cheerleader, a teacher, a mother, a zookeeper, an historian, a hard line and a warm hug.

She was home, and now she is home.

Saying we’ll miss her feels meaningless. Saying she is without pain is an understatement. When she left the ground shifted, forever changed. We can either fall into the chasms or bridge them, and I know that’s what she’d want us to do. Keep moving forward. Be kind to people. Be there for the ones you love. Stay close to your family, and know where you come from. Love God, and be a light to those around you. And feed the animals, no matter what the signs say.

We love you, Memee.