When I think of the term Grandmother, many memories come and wrap my mind in a blanket of love. In my life I have been most generously blessed with one great Grandmother, two Grandmothers, and a beloved Elder who is my spiritual Grandmother.

My great Grandmother came over from Ireland when she was about sixteen. I never knew her exact age because she never had a birth certificate and always told us she was 21. She had a wonderful Irish Lilt and bright blue, sparkling eyes, and she would cook up a storm. Always ready with warm hugs and kisses, we never felt judged in her presence, only nurtured and always encouraged. As young children we were aware that she was always interested in what we had to say and made time to listen to our stories and adventures.

There were always wonderful smells emanating from my Grannie’s kitchen, as she baked delicious jams and preserves. When my cousins and I would visit her, which was often during our summer holidays, we would be presented with a huge slice of homemade fruitcake or a soda scone of equally generous proportions. Nobody spoiled us like our Great Grannie. When we had an accident or dirtied our clothes because we had played somewhere forbidden to us by our parents, she would clean us up, wash our clothes, and sent us home spanking new. Never did it occur to us that she would turn us in to our parents. When she died I was heartbroken, she was the first person in my life who died that was close to me. I remember my uncle trying to get me to go in and see her at the wake, but I refused to go. I wanted to remember her as she had always been to me, busy, curious, and excited about everything life had to offer. As I am writing this story, I realize that I never even knew her first name.

Both my Grannies were called Mary, but there the similarities end. They were as different as two people could possibly be. One was tiny and small-boned, she kept a beautiful home and was a marvelous cook. She would protect me from my mother when she would get into violent rages and be a buffer for me until she would calm down.

The other Mary was big-boned, heavy on her feet and in her body. Her house was never clean and she was close to the worst cook on the planet. But her heart was all encompassing and she was my shelter from the many, many storms of my childhood. This Grandmother was my raft to sanity. I spent as much time as possible in her home. She was extremely devout in her spiritual practices, and was always moving the beads on her Rosary. She had an unfailing belief in the Blessed Mother and prayed to her constantly. When she died, she left me her red crystal Rosary beads. She loved me through all my faults, supporting me through all the tense times in my life, with a wonderful sense of humor, and amazing family loyalty.

She had a very sweet singing voice, and I can close my eyes and hear her in kitchen singing ‘You are my special angel’, as she brunt whatever it was that she was cooking at the time.

Through this Grandmother, I learned I was lovable and had value, how to laugh and have fun, and in her presence I always felt safe, and that I had an anchor in my life. I would watch her pray, and in my teenage years, wished for the kind of steadfast faith that I always witnessed in her.

So often these days, we fail to see the value of our Old Ones and the many wisdoms they carry. We often prefer to put them in retirement homes and let time wash over them, allowing them to feel unwanted and useless. We create retirement communities separating them from the children and the young adults, so the young people never learn the value of the living treasures that dwell amongst them in their Grandmothers and Grandfathers.

The Grandmother who walks with me at this time in my life is call Pa’Ris’Ha. She is my spiritual Elder and my Beloved Grandmother. She is all the Grandmothers of the Earth woven into one warm enfolding blanket, sometimes gentle, sometimes strong and direct, but always she is love in it’s most unconditional state. With her, life is the bud of a flower just waiting to burst into living color. Everyday is a new book yet to be written. Everyday is a new life yet to be lived. She tells us stories of her own Grandmother and the many wonderful times they shared together as they walked and lived among the forest and all its peoples.

Yes, I say again I have been very much blessed with the many Grandmothers in my life. Most are gone now, but the love and the wisdoms live on in my heart, and if I take just a moment in my busy day to remember these beloved women, they are once again at my side holding me, loving me, and teaching me in the age old ways of Grandmothers…

Stik A Yi