Me with Grandma, 1994
Monday started off with the biggest dark cloud ever when we learned of the death of David Bowie. Something so traumatic always brings me back to the most important person I ever lost — my grandmother. She would have understood the pain of the loss, that all of us are feeling. Yes, ALL of us.
That’s why grandmothers are much more special than grandfathers will ever be. It’s just that old, yin energy that makes an old or old(er) woman so incredibly special. Grandmothers know how to comfort. She was there for me when Freddie Mercury died. She was a good listener. A skill so many lack.
She listened to me. And she would have listened to YOU too! So many of my friends always remind me of sharing a late night cup of coffee with Grandma.
We were so blessed not only to be living during a time when David Bowie could be our muse, but more so that the world knew greatness and made him famous so everyone (those with good taste) could learn of his art.
My grandmother wasn’t famous, but that funeral home was jam-packed when she died. And I am so lucky I was one of God’s chosen people to be blood-related to her. The night before David Bowie died, Grandma came to me in a dream and said, “Hold me.” I was freaking out wondering what that dream meant, until I realized she wanted to comfort me over the loss of David Bowie.
❤ Missing you more than ever, Grandma. And thank you! ❤
(photo by Darlene Foster)
Earlier today someone called my home. It was a bad connection and we could barely hear each other, like an overseas phone call.
The guy kept repeating, “You don’t know who this is?”
“No, I don’t know who it is. Tell me.”
Then the guy starts yelling at me, “Grandma! You don’t even know your own grandson?!”
I said, “I’m sorry, I’m not your Grandma. You have the wrong number.”
He apologized. After we hung up I laughed. Then I really thought about what had happened and how sweet it was that someone, somewhere, was calling their grandmother. And how lucky they were to still have a grandmother. I was touched.