It's now been two weeks since my grandma passed away. As I sit in the quiet space of the kitchen at my brother's girlfriend's house in Minnesota I reflect on the color of pink that I just painted my nails. The 50 Shades color this week is Pink Diamond by Essie, courtesy of Jean Strand Rollins, my brother's girlfriend.
Pink Diamond. It's kind of how I think of my grandma. As a child I watched my grandma get ready for the day or even for bed and was fascinated by how proper she was. She'd take time to put on Oil of Olay every night, her makeup and lipstick every morning. I will never forget the day when in her 80's we talked Grandma into getting a pair of jeans and wearing them. Still she wore a nice blouse and a necklace to make sure she was dressed just right. Even as I look at pictures of grandma from when she was a young girl she still always had to be properly dressed, her hair properly done, her jewelry...what she had...was perfect to what she wore. As grandma got older and even up to her passing two weeks ago, she still had to be properly dressed. She wouldn't pass with her hair a mess and wearing a hospital gown. No...she waited until we had bathed her, washed her hair and fixed it, and put on her favorite pink house coat (worn backwards as a gown instead) before she let go. She had to be pretty to meet Jesus as we referred to it. My grandma always had to look nice. She was like a diamond...no matter how you looked at her she looked beautiful.
Through my life I didn't pay attention much to how others perceived me...I tried to voyage my own path and have my own look. I have realized as I have reflected on my life and my grandma's these last two weeks that my Grandma wasn't vain by wanting to look nice. Rather, how she dressed and looked was to help herself feel like a diamond. My grandma was raised in an immigrant home and rather poor. Her being able to be proper and dressed nice was her respect of herself and her way of helping herself see that she could move beyond the poverty she was raised in. What mattered to her was the achievement of being able to make and then wear what she made and it look good. My grandma had been a seamstress.
Recently I have found myself wanting to be more like her. Wanting to put the Oil of Olay on at night to keep the wrinkles away, wanting to make sure I don't go out without wearing jewelry or the proper attire. It's all her fault. She has influenced me to want to be a diamond myself.
While transformations don't happen over night, at least I can start with the nails. Pink Diamond. I think she'd be proud.
(I am still trying to figure out how to get my pretty nails onto a picture and onto this blog from my iPad since I am currently out of town....if you are reading this and want to see the picture, check in later again. Until then, thank you for reading my blog.)
No comments:
Post a Comment