Love Letter #7, Margaret (My Mom’s Mom)

Dear Margaret,

I am sitting here writing, looking at a picture of young, stylin’ you and baby me. The picture lives in my office and I look at it most days. It looks like we are playing pat-a-cake. Your hair is Texas big and you look sharp and fun. I love this picture of us. It hinted at the fun we would have together in the years to come.

I love that you were my grandmother, but I got to call you by your name. Granny just never would have suited you and you knew it. What “Granny” would take their middle schooler grandkid to see Silence of the Lambs? What “Grandmother” would encourage me to wear a red teddy? What “Nanna” would rock your leotard at Jazzercise? It never would have worked, Margaret was perfect.

You opened the world for me. You and Dickie took me on adventures to Disneyland and Canada. You would come back from trips all over the world and shared stories of places I still hope to see one day. You told stories about RTF school at UT and when I enrolled, that is what I wanted to do. You were larger than life and I loved soaking in your sun.

You are the first person that I knew that was really political. You talked about politics with fire and passion and people listened to you. You were the most powerful woman that I knew in that way. I picked up the love of politics from your living room. I’m sure of it. I greet it with the same fire and sport that you did, although, I am on the other team. Given what has happened with the party you loved so much, I think you would be too.

This summer you have been gone for 14 years. But you are still here in a thousand ways. I hear you when your daughters really get to laughing. I feel you in the gravel in my own voice. I see you when I am with my cousins. I know you are sitting there with us, a generous glass of chardonay in hand. I hear your voice everytime I pass a Red Lobster, “it was deee-li-shous”. I see your looks in my mom, you glamour in Aunt Les, you wit in Aunt Laura. Somehow all of that has made it’s way to my generation and we all get to carry some piece of you with us. When we all get together, it is like some channel opens and there you are. I love those moments so much.

Not everyone gets to have an icon for a grandmother, but I did and I am so grateful for it. I miss you, Margaret, but I know you are around.

I love you, Margaret. I miss you. I’m so grateful that you were mine.

Martha

PS I will always appreciate how clear you were about preferring my driving to Adie’s. I promise not to let her forget it, either.