i miss my grams

It's very strange, but being in India makes me really miss my grandmother, who passed away in May of 2007. It's remarkable how many times she comes to mind while I'm here in Delhi.

Part of the reason is that they use a lot of mothballs in India, and so many places I visit smell an awful lot like my grandma's house, which of course brings her to mind.

I also think of my grandmother a lot here in India because of the prevalence of elephant iconography in Hinduism (and India in general.) My grandma collected all things elephant (but only with their trunks up!) and every time I see an elephant (which is like every hour or so) I think fondly of my grams. It's been over a year since she's been gone, and I still forget and think about buying her something beautiful with elephants on it whenever I see it here.

Another reason I think she comes up a lot is because I'm once again spending lots of time with my dear friend Ryan. Ryan and I have quite an understanding in terms of our relationships with our grandmothers as her grandma passed away just a a few months before mine did, and we both know how difficult it was for each other. For that reason, being with Ryan makes me often think about our grandmas and inevitably that makes me miss mine (and Mildred too!)

There are parts of India that would very much appall my grandmother, raised in the Midwest during the Great Depression. The poverty, the filth, the smell - I really can't imagine how she would react to those things (but probably not too favorably.)

But there are so many things here that I know she would have loved: the colors, the (good) smells, the beauty, the shopping and bargain hunting, and just the very fact that I love it so much.

One of the most notable things for me about being at the Taj Mahal this weekend is how much my grandmother would have liked it. Not necessarily for its seeming permanence or meaning, and particularly not for its Islamic Mughal origins (Grams was quite a Christian.) But I know she would have been in awe over the sheer majesty of it. It was just so large and visually compelling, and I really think she would have been enamored.

I talked to Ryan about this later and realized that this was probably my favorite quality of my grandmother's: the ability to be genuinely moved by so many different things. Ryan mentioned that she loves that about my family at Christmas - we all relish each and every present that we open, and spend the time genuinely thanking each other for our gifts. (I hope it's authentic relishment and gratitude!) She mentioned that my grandmother was always the best at this - every gift she opened was like the best and most amazing thing she had ever seen - and it was entirely authentic enthusiasm.

I joked that I could have given my grandmother a pile of dog poop and she still would have considered it to be the greatest thing she'd ever received. A letter in the mail could absolutely make her week. Shortly before she died, I sent her a pretty batiked scarf with elephants on it from Nepal and the thank you note I got back was genuinely grateful for such a perfect gift.

I have been known as the "woman of superlatives" - out of laziness and a passionate appreciation for a variety of things, I'm apt to call seemingly mundane things the "best thing I've ever seen" or the "funniest thing ever."

In some sense these superlatives are not entirely unwarranted - I am moved by many things, just as my grandmother was. But I aspire to be genuinely moved by the most pedestrian of items - the ability to be authentically present so that each and every moment - each and every wonder from Taj Mahal to the beautiful saree I see on the street - will move me like it moved my grams.