I do not recall everything after I heard that my Grandma Hope died. I remember screaming NO. I remember saying now I really am Hopeless.
I do not feel that way anymore. She was the first grandparent I lost and I did not cope. I knew as soon as I saw my Dad pull into my apartment. I knew he was there to tell me in person the news we had been waiting for. I do not even remember if he came in, or when he left. I just knew that I knew.
Grandma came from a mix of Virginia Colony money and British intrigue. She and Pap Pap were poor for a very long time, yet she acted well to do. Grandma was a very proper lady with a huge smile. I think I get my smile from her.
Grandma was also laid back. She was just as comfortable in a gown for Daughters of the Nile with a tiara or crown as she was in a button-up shirt, capris, sandals, and cigarettes.
She had her hair done once a week at the beauty salon and before any important event. Her table had to be set to perfection, penmanship was of utmost importance, one must support the arts, and so on. My mother does not remember her mother way. When she talks about her mom she talks about rolled up jeans. I laugh. I can not imagine grandma that way.
Hope tried to be the sunshine in everyone’s lives. Even strangers through her charity work on through the Daughters of The Nile. She supported the local Zoo. If she could give something or someone money or time, she did.
She was Hope
When I hear organ music I still think of her playing for the church every Sunday and holiday. When some has used too much hairspray it reminds me of her getting ready those Sunday mornings. One of the best things about going to church on Christmas Eve as a child for Midnight Mass wasn’t just being able to stay up late, it was to see and hear her play.
Everything she did in life was with that same precision and grace.
Grandma, I try to be that light to others now and I learned no matter how hard things get things are never hopeless.