A Tribute To My Grandmother

A Tribute to my Grandmother, AT (1910-2005), with much love.

While it is under sad circumstances that I write this, it is, nevertheless, an honour for me to write down a few words about my grandmother.

My earliest memories of her date back all the way to my childhood in Asuncion. Every year during summer vacation, I was allowed to visit her for a few weeks. She lived a good 6 hour bus-ride from us, in the Chaco, and I remember her always picking me up from the bus station upon my arrival.

She would take me to her place, and then for the next two weeks, she would try to do everything she could to make sure that my vacation was safe and fun. She would watch in delight as I rode my bike or played with friends, or warn me of the coming rain or windstorm whenever thick dark clouds neared. She would thoughtfully prepare each and every meal during my stay, but not based on her desired menu, but mine. If I asked for meat she’d ask me what kind, chicken or beef. If I asked for potatoes, she would ask how I wanted them: mashed, boiled, or fried; and if I wanted them fried, then fried how, like french fries, or like thin potato-chips?

Grandma was a kind person: thoughtful, caring, and perhaps above all, hospitable. She knew how to open her home to others.

I remember a time much later, after our family had already moved to Canada, how she loved having people, especially her grandchildren, over at her apartment. At that time my parents were in South America for a lengthy stay, and in their absence, she’d taken it upon herself to cook 2 or 3 meals a week for my brother. But what struck me was that my brother enjoyed going there for lunch. I found it perplexing – what was so special about lunch hours with grandma?

The answer to that question came a few years later, when my brother also went to South America. His departure meant that now just grandma and I remained here in Canada. But she refused to complain about it, choosing instead to reach out to me, offering friendship and care. I began visiting her for lunch 2 or 3 times a week, just like my brother had done. At first I perhaps went more out of courtesy than a real desire to get to know her, but over time, I realized how special she was. She was such a generous and giving person: she gave without expecting in return.

She made wonderful meals – sometimes I wondered how many other people she’d invited, because there always seemed to be enough food for about 5 people on the table! I guess now I know where mom got that trait.

First she’d bring out the borscht met tweiback, then she hauled out the beef, potatoes, vegetables, and corn, and for the grand finale she always had a freshly baked pie – sometimes lemon, sometimes chocolate – and a hot cup of coffee.

On a side note - I think she saw herself as somewhat of a food expert, and for good reason. She’d come up with these great but peculiar statements, like for example, telling me to add sour cream to my borscht, because it would add such a rich flavour to the soup. Or she’d tell me that it wasn’t right to cut a potato with a knife, because then all the potato juices would be wasted. It was much better to gently push down using a fork.

Anyways, after sharing a meal, we’d sit down on the couch and talk a little. She was always open to talk, and she was willing to discuss just about anything under the sun. She’d ask me about my life: my job, my friends, and my dreams. Then she’d tell me about her life: her childhood, the war, the exodus to Paraguay, and then her journey to Canada.

But without fail, she’d bring all our conversations back to “the most important thing” – namely, that even though she didn’t understand all the things going on around her, even though she didn’t understand the solutions to all the problems, whether it be political, financial, or personal, one thing she did understand beyond the shadow of a doubt, and that was that God loved her through Jesus Christ, and furthermore, he loved all people.

She lamented evil and suffering in the world. She had a soft heart for the hurting and the burdened. This, because she was no stranger to suffering, no stranger to pain. She had a deep love for what is good, righteous, and honest. She had a profound desire to live a life of holiness, modesty, and dignity, because these things were godly; all of these things were of God.

Switching our focus now to her final years, in a way, I feel like I lost my grandmother 10 years ago, around 1994, when we travelled to South America together to spend Christmas with family there. It was there where we saw the beginnings of a sickness that would eventually rob us of her kindness, her smile, and most of all, her company; and it was there where we noticed that an illness was robbing her of her own memory.

This evil illness swept over her so fast, it was frustrating and angering to witness. It didn’t take that long, perhaps a few years, before she couldn’t even recognize her own loved-ones.

I’ve lamented over this from time to time. I would have liked to give back to her what she gave to us. She gave us love, care, kindness, and hospitality, to name but a few qualities, and that is what I wish I could have given her more of in a way that she could appreciate and understand.

I think it is entirely appropriate to close this tribute to my grandmother with a quote from Scriptures. In the book of Revelation, the apostle John describes his vision of a new heaven and a new earth, saying: “And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away’”.

Today I mourn the loss of a wonderful person, a godly woman, an amazing grandmother. But, like her, I too know that the most important and crucial thing is to place my faith and trust in Him who created us, who saw it fit to redeem us, and who will one day wipe away all tears from our eyes. May this encourage us, and may this encourage especially you, dear mother.

May Christ’s eternal shalom be with her now, and may we too be blessed by a foretaste of this perfect, harmonious peace that we shall one day experience in fullness.