Until It’s Gone

I was on a flight from San Francisco to New York when my grandmother Shirley Taylor passed away. I landed at JFK with Thievery Corporation blaring from my Bose headphones and alarming text messages from my uncle and sister on my Blackberry. I knew she was gone.

When I heard that she was in the hospital a few weeks ago, I promptly got on a flight to Orange County. My grandmother had always been much closer to my big sister and we did spend many years out of touch due to other family dramas out of our control. I loved her and she loved me, but it was always in the background.

It didn’t occur to me until that morning I got the call about her hospitalization. I immediately sat up in bed, the tears already forming in my throat. I had no idea how much she meant to me until that very moment. I am so thankful that later I had a chance to hold her hand for a few hours while she stared intently into my eyes. It was as if we both knew how much love there was between us, but that it might be too late.

Shirley was one of the most special women to have ever played a role in my life. She was a conservative woman who believed in traditional lifestyles. Yet she still voted no on Proposition 8 because her granddaughter and great granddaughter are both lesbians. That shows true character.

She always collected my business card after I started a new job. She was so proud of me climbing the corporate ladder. She was a quiet woman who loved to read, watch television and attend theater. I’ll always cherish the year she took me to see Neil Simon’s The Dinner Party for my birthday. We shared that fierce love for the performing arts and I might never see another play again without thinking of her.

My grandmother had a fairly modest estate and I’m not interested in any of it, save for one thing. She always formally typed her letters on the oldest typewriter known to man. I’m hoping to inherit that machine so I can keep her sweet, gentle and independent spirit at my fingertips.

As I listened to Dave Matthews Band’s #41 at Madison Square Garden last night, I let the tears fall down my face as I realized how much the lyrics “I wanted to stay/I wanted to play/I wanted to love you” rang so true for me at this particular time. The powerful emotion of regret can hold on and never let go.

It’s very seldom that I find myself in the position of ‘not knowing what I’ve got until it’s gone.’ I’m pretty big on relishing the present and those people in my life who matter the most. It is the passing of my beloved grandmother that will forever change me. I know she’s somewhere up in Heaven with her husband, eating her famous Orange Salad, and her smiling down on me makes it all okay.

I will miss you, Gramma. See you on the other side. I’ll bring the theater tickets.