Sharing the Love

Today is my grandma's 87th birthday. She passed away about four months ago, on the day that I left for South Africa. The last time that I spoke to her was from a payphone in the Atlanta airport. She could not speak, but my dad, who was with her at the time, said that she responded to my voice. She died just a few hours after my plane took off.

My dad feels strongly that her final act of love for me was waiting to die until I was too far away to come back; if she had died before I had left the States, I probably would have delayed or canceled the trip to attend her funeral. Grandma also loved to travel, and I know that she was thrilled that I got to fulfill my dream to go to the World Cup.

I love rituals and believe that they are such an important part of the healing process, so missing the funeral was hard for me. I wanted to able to mourn with my family and to celebrate her life with them. Even though everyone was extremely supportive, not being there felt more like an act of betrayal to my living family than to her.

What I wasn't able to say then, I want to say now, to commemorate her birthday. Grandma and I were kindred spirits. We are both tall. Both of us love to read and travel. She did not marry until she was 30. Both of us are women with opinions. But when I think about what has really connected us it is that we love and get excited about so many of the same things. So much of what I love in life is because of her: she shared her passions with me until they became my own.

The things on this list of shared loves include everything from Highway 1 to Barbara Streisand to tree-picked oranges to Julia Child to camping on the beach to Diet Dr. Pepper to cut roses in a glass bowl. Here are some of the most significant things that I love because Grandma Bea loved them first:

Nordstrom. This was her favorite department store, and most of the gifts she gave me were from there. She loved taking me there to pick out a "special something." Nordstrom was emblematic of her appreciation for refinement and elegance. She did not have a large quantity of wealth or material possessions, but what she did have was always lovely. Everything from her collection of 1950's hats to the pitcher (no jug) of milk on the kitchen table was classy.

Christmas Eve. Bea was born in the United States but is 100% full-blooded Norwegian, and for Norwegians, Christmas Eve is probably the most important nights of the year. On that night, she always ensured that the table was perfectly set, that the traditional foods - spare ribs, baked potatoes, sukor - were prepared, and that we were all dressed in Sunday best. It has always been a sacred evening for our family that everyone anticipates every year.

Family History. Grandma was a key link in the generations of Jacobsens. She felt a special mandate to preserve the family legacy as well as to keep in touch with her many nieces and nephews. Grandma adored her parents and 5 siblings, and she helped all of us to develop a great love for them through her stories and family artifacts. A favorite of mine was a signed letter from the King of Norway thanking her mother for the dramatic recitation she performed for him. I loved hearing her talk about the times her family spent at the Grand Tetons in Jackson Hole - the place that reminded them the most of Norway, and the location of our most recent family reunion.

Classical Music. Bea's father and older brother were both violinists; it was violin music that actually brought her family into the Mormon church in Norway. She was thrilled when I started playing the violin at age 7, and when I was 16 she gave me her Lladro porcelain statue of a little girl playing the violin. Her home was always full of great opera or classical music, and I loved hearing her sigh of contentment and nostalgia when was listened to her favorite pieces.

I miss having Grandma around to cheer and support me: she always made it clear that she was a huge Jen fan, as she was of all her grand kids. But I know that having so much around me of what we both love will keep us close.