The day I met Elsie, my grandfather’s current girlfriend, was strange to say the least. (I should specify here that this is on the paternal side, whereas Mama, i.e. Mama’s Chanel, is on my maternal side.) My father’s mother, Shirley, died when I was in fourth grade, so almost 20 years ago now. Since then he’s had a few girlfriends, all lovely people, and one who was, without a doubt, one of the kindest souls I ever met. Which is why I never understood why she was with my grandfather. Don’t get me wrong, he’s family, and I love him, but he’s hardly the nicest human in the world. For years I’ve watched him treat my father like dirt and criticize my mother at every turn. On more than one occasion, my mother and I have had to step in on my father’s behalf. In fact it wasn’t until this year that he ever gave my father a compliment. In the 27 years of my life, that was a first. So, how he constantly has a companion who thinks he’s wonderful has always been beyond me. But, as my father says, once you hit your 90’s, the options of available men has dwindled. At least dad has kept his sense of humor.
The day I met her, I actually had no idea she existed. Thanks family. So, I walk into this lunch, and there’s my grandfather, and some random woman I’ve never seen. Which alone, I agree, isn’t that bad. The weird part was the fact that she looked EXACTLY like Shirley. Talk about a shock to the system. I walked into lunch and saw my dead grandmother at the table. I don’t much remember anything that was discussed after that. Of course, I spent the drive home yelling at my parents for the ambush. Their response… Well you’ve met his girlfriends before. Oh really family, thanks, real kind. Yes, of course I have but none of them were twinning with dead people. Poor Elsie, I don’t think I got to know her much that day, but I’m sure I stared.
Thankfully, I was granted a few more chances. Elsie was strong, and independent, and incredibly bright. She was a highly educated woman from a time where pursuing education as a woman was very much outside the norm. Talking to her was a pleasure. She was someone you learned from all the time, and actually enjoyed having discussions with, and I grew to like her very much. More than that, I respected her and held her in very high regard. As I suffered through my grandfather’s mean, grumpy, I’m going to be a dick because I can bullshit, I took solace in knowing that there would be a friendly face at the table. In fact, I always made sure to sit by Elsie. That’s where all the good conversation was, or really the only conversation I cared to be involved in. While my grandfather is not on the top of my list of favorite people, mostly because I’ll never quite forgive him for the damage he caused my father or for setting such a poor example for his family, having Elsie joining our family gatherings made it all much more tolerable. Or, as tolerable as possible with the cast of characters on my father’s side.
So when I found out this morning that she had passed, it kind of shocked me. It settled deep down into the depths of my soul in a way I didn’t expect. The little girl in me had just started to come out, she had just gotten comfortable asking if Elsie was joining us, starting to hope she would be there. That little girl in me, the one that really misses Mama, had gotten attached. I guess in a lot of ways, Elsie was the woman I wished I had grown up seeing instead of Shirley. No doubt, there’s a million things to feel guilty for in that sentence, so I’ll spare everyone, but, I will say having Elsie around made me wonder what might have been different if she had been there encouraging me as a grandmother and telling me to pursue more, try more, as opposed to having to fight Shirley just to be myself, the kind of girl who couldn’t be put into the small box in which she insisted I must fit. What might that have been like for my father? How would having a mother like Elsie have effected his life, and his confidence, and his self-worth? Would he have been happy?
So, I guess I miss Elsie for a lot reasons. I miss her because I genuinely liked and respected her. I miss her because I enjoyed her company. I miss her because I looked up to her. And I miss her because of a long list of what if’s. While I’m not sure it’s proper to say, I’m glad it was quick and she didn’t suffer. I can’t imagine her without her mind, and I think from her side, that loss would have been the worst price to pay. But I will miss seeing her. How do you tell someone you share no blood with that they mean more to you than some who do? How do you say that right in front of their faces? I hope she knew that somehow.
I know there’s a special place for you carved out in heaven. Rest easy my friend.
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