Gramma Cathy

 "Christmas, bah humbug... get me a virgin, a knife and an oak tree." 

- attributed to my Gramma Cathy.

I was thinking about her last night and that quote came to mind. She'd been reading about druids and become quite enamored of them. It stuck in my mind as kind a defining quote for me.

Exiled her in the Midwest, it may seem strange to people around me that my gramma had no use for church and clergy... but she didn't. She never really talked, in my hearing, about religion or matters spiritual... and yet she had such a strong spiritual presence. 

I remember... when I was kid she and my Grampa Ted lived in an old house in Lincoln, Vermont. It was a simple place - classic New England home with white clapboard, with a red door. It was probably quite small though in my memories it's huge on the inside, with little doors and odd corners that opened into new rooms and spaces. I stay there a lot during the summers and slept over many times. I remember her room, which I'd share with her. It was a broad, open space with two big beds and a little sitting area. The ceiling was open, up through the old wood-frame rafters to the roof high, high above. 

I remember one night looking up and that space among the rafters was alive with Darkness... Darkness as a living presence, blocking out the light, filling that space like black water, silent and full of malice... and then my Gramma Cathy came in and it was just night and the shadows among the wooden rafters. The Darkness could not endure in her presence.

It's easy to imagine her as a smiling, cheerful white haired lady... and she was, but she also wasn't.

She'd endured abuse as a child. She couldn't fathom why people couldn't see that she as a mean, ugly, wicked woman. You couldn't explain to her that she was beautiful and good, full of brightness and joy and bone deep strength. 

The truth is, she was fierce and she could be mean. She used to drink too much. She used to smoke too much. She lied like a snake, usually about being fine. She worked herself too hard, trying to control her space, and she wouldn't take help from anyone unless it was on her terms.

The truth is, she was bright and beautiful and good. Strangers on the street would open up to her, telling her their life's story and unburdening their joys and fears. She never understood why. Never understood that she would watch them with her warm, dark eyes and smile and be kind. 

In her wake, the world was a brighter place. Every life she touched, even in passing, was bettered for it.

The Darkness could not endure in her presence.