it’s been a month since my little angel of a grandma passed. i think i’m still in shock.

ask anyone who knows me well or otherwise, my grandparents are my everything. i was the lone grandchild who spoke at the funeral. speaking of shock, i still don’t know how i did that. maybe it was those prayers i said with every step up to that podium.

my grandma was the only person to call me mimi. i will miss hearing that everyday of my life. here are my words for her.

Charles.

That’s what my sister and I called my Grandma. I don’t even remember how it started—probably during one of those cross-country phonecalls when she was making us promise that we were indeed wearing two coats and three pairs of pants and four hats out in the snow.

“Ok, Charles…” My granddad loved it—thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

It wasn’t flip or talking back, more so just this funny little name we stumbled on for her. At first glance, it seems odd—this big, masculine moniker for a small angel of a woman. But if you really think—it fits perfectly.

Charles—it’s strong and timeless, a little unexpected yet fitting, and for some reason it always elicits a full-on grin. All of that was my Grandma.

She was the most fearless person I know—daring out on her own to meet a man who would become the love of her life, working hard to be  an educational trailblazer, having three gorgeous insanely successful children, and finally having seven grandchildren who were absolutely consumed by her love. I don’t think any grandkids in history have been better taken care of.  And she did all of this with her fantastic sense of humor and undeniable glamour and insatiable kindness.

She was like a hurricane with her love—just bowling over any friends and family, strangers even, who came across her path. She simply couldn’t help her passion for making other people happy.

That, not size, is the true measure of strength. A rare combination of charm and tradition, force and beauty.

Charles, you have no idea how much we will miss you. We love you.