gradus ad paradisum
This morning I found out that my great-grandmother has died. My Swedish grandma, Jenny Johnson, who lived alone in her house in the woods of Minnesota without plumbing all her life (except for the last couple when my great-aunt joined her). I never knew her well. I don't have the childhood memories my mother has of happy summers spent in Minnesota. But the times I did go to visit were enchanting. Seeing the deer and other wildlife. Trips down the lane to Bear Creek. Wandering around the meadows and woods. Going out to the outhouse in order to use the bathroom. Fascinated by the water pump. Taking a cup of water to the meadow to brush my teeth. (The lack of plumbing obviously being a significant source of my wonder.) The creaking beds upstairs. The welcome of the wood stove as we all squeezed into the kitchen munching on big cookies and drinking coffee, the nectar of the Swedes. Hearing the stories of my little Grandma (she was hunched and shorter than me) fearlessly chasing the bears from her lawn. And laughing and laughing.
Gramma Jen is the last of my great-grandmothers to die. I have been blessed to have known all but one. 10 years ago they were all alive. Now all (but the one I haven't met) are in heaven. Even though I haven't seen her since I graduated from high school (she came to my high school graduation, and we spent a couple of weeks following up there in MN), I'm really sad. I know it's a happy occasion. But I'm still really sad. Sadder than I thought I would be had I thought of this day before.