“Grandma Else was tiny but tough. She had cancer as a young woman and barely survived. The radiation therapy fried her intestines, so she never weighed more than 80 lbs after that. Even though I call her ‘Grandma,’ she was actually my husband’s grandmother. But she was a big part of both our lives. She invited us over. And wrote us letters. Whenever she came to visit, she’d sort of sit down in the living room and not move again. That’s how fragile she was. But she spread so much love from that armchair in the corner. She always showed an interest in me. I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but she’d ask me questions. And remember my answers. And the next time I saw her, she’d follow up on the things I told her. That kind of attention is rare. Especially when you’re not charming or interesting, which I’m not. In the past I’ve struggled with feeling worthless. I’ve sometimes thought: ‘What do I have to offer?’ I’ve had my own health problems in life, especially as a teenager. So Grandma Else really inspired me. That’s why we decided to name our daughter after her. When we told her our plan, she was thrilled. But a few months later she was in the hospital again. And it was clear this time, she wasn’t coming home. While she was in hospice, she kept saying: ‘I hope I get to meet baby Else.’ But the doctors told us that she only had days to live, so we didn’t think it was going to happen. But Grandma Else held on for a month. A full month. And I went into labor nine days early. The moment I could walk, I rushed to her bedside. I put our daughter into her bed. Grandma Else was very quiet, but very alert. She was just staring at baby Else. And stroking her face. I don’t remember her saying anything. I just remember her looking very happy. And very at peace.”
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