Matriarchs.
Not all mother’s are matriarchs.
Not all grandmother’s are matriarchs.
It just doesn’t work that way.
What is a matriarch?
I’ve been thinking about it a lot.
To me…..
It’s the woman unafraid to take charge. Though doesn’t have to be loud or brash. It’s a woman who is soft enough to let you cry without question. And hold your hand. Or just sit with you. It’s a woman who is hard enough to tell you to get it together. But you, who are hearing this, never ever, not once in a conversation of having been told that, feel unloved. Or unsupported. A matriarch feeds you. Not only your stomach but your soul. They are the center. They are not only a person but a place that you feel safe in.
My husband’s family lost their matriarch.
She was a woman who never tried to replace my own grandmother. When it came to my own family, she knew a certain sadness to me and let me keep it. She sat with me when I cried and felt homeless. I have been lucky enough to be able to walk into her kitchen, whenever I wanted, almost all of my adult life, just as I would my own grandmothers, find her sitting at the counter and have her face light up when I walked in. Her and I both knowing full well she wouldn’t hear much of what I said, but I talked anyway. She loved my dry sense of humor that only a person like her could catch.
I have been documenting from the sidelines, her life and family for 20 years. Getting to watch exactly how she loved every single person in her family in their own way. She supported all the different carreers and lives and children and children of children. She wrote letters and cards to everyone and didn’t ever forget birthdays. She’d write little notes about her day. She loved to shop by catalog. She followed the lives of all the grandkids and great grandkids and loved hearing about all the adventures. The easy ones and the hard ones. She taught me how to cut a watermelon. She sat next to me at Thanksgiving for over a decade in a front porch she loved because it reminded her of her own home. I would help to her to her napping place every year at the same time. She loved to hear her family sing and watch them dance and do all the things that brought them joy.
She laughed whole heartedly.
She lived a good life. I was so lucky to be a part of it.
Selfishly, a family never wants to lose someone like her.
We are that family.
We will miss you Grandma Mac and Cheese.