Remembering Ma-Ma

My apologies, folks. I realize my recent posts have been a bit heavy as of late and that trend unfortunately will continue in this post.

Ma-Ma and Sara

Sara's grandmother, affectionately known as Ma-Ma (though each grandchild spelled her moniker a bit differently), passed away last weekend after a recent and rapid decline in health. All of this was a bit of surprise since Ma-Ma, despite her 84 years, was probably in better health than the rest of us. The last time she'd been in the hospital was 1959--a time when doctor's probably still smoked during surgery.

Despite herself being a non-smoker, Ma-Ma was diagnosed with lung cancer about a month ago. Over the
course of the last week, we went from a manageable diagnosis with years of life left, to 3-5 months, then 1-2 weeks, and finally 1-2 days. Thankfully, all of Ma-Ma's sons made it to Tyler to say their final goodbyes, but none of us were ready to receive the 3 a.m. call that shared the news of her passing. It was sad. It was abrupt. But it was merciful.

While I didn't have a lifetime with Ma-Ma, I've been around the Holland family for over 16 years, and when you've spent that many years in regular contact with a person, your spouse's grandmother soon becomes your own. Ma-Ma will be missed by many, and she will definitely be missed by me.

Ma-Ma was a strong, independent woman. A woman who spoke her mind often, recorded her thoughts always, and lived her life fiercely...without regret. She was warm, loving, and the leader of the Holland clan. Her role will never be filled; we will simply compensate for her absence in our lives and in our hearts.

There is much about Ma-Ma that could be said, but I wanted to hit a few highlights as I mentally (and blogally) celebrate her life.

Better than Fiction
Ma-Ma was one half of a great love story--one that caters to the hopeless romantic in me. Ma-Ma and Pap-Pa met in 2nd grade, and as legend has it, Pap-Pa came home that night and told his parents that he'd met the girl he was going to marry. I'm sure his parents rolled their eyes at little Casanova Claude, but Pap-Pa spoke truth that day--a truth reflected in 66 years of marriage. A love story born in the 2nd grade...you can't write a better, more heartwarming tale.

Breakfast Revelations
Whenever we were in town, I loved partaking of the weekly Saturday morning breakfasts that Ma-Ma would fix...not simply for the eggs, grits, and toast (though they were excellent)...but rather for the revelations that would come to pass when Sara's uncles joined the meal. You see, four Holland boys managed to create a lot of havoc in their younger years--not felony-level havoc but a fair amount of butt-whoopin' level destruction. Following breakfast, my FIL and his brothers would recount the missteps of their youth with Ma-Ma enjoying the tales in a way that only time and distance permits....except in a few rare instances when a tale would be told that Ma-Ma had never heard before. The combined look of shock and concern, paired with a clear desire to ground one or more of the middle-aged children sitting at the table, was absolutely priceless. In fact, these moments inspired a previous post.

A Final Hug
While I have always felt connected to the Holland family, nothing made me feel more embraced than an actual embrace from Ma-Ma. Ma-Ma used to remark that I gave the best hugs, and I always looked forward to our customary greeting whether it had been 3 months or 3 days since we last saw each other. I'll admit...the amount of pride I took in that compliment was both sizable and absurd, but for me, in that compliment, I read a deeper message--I was a member of the family, I was worthy of her granddaughter, and I was, in Ma-Ma's eyes, a good soul. So in the flurry of doctors and bad news that washed over our Easter weekend visit, I am so thankful that Ma-Ma requested a hug shortly after we arrived at the hospital. Little did I know that it would be our last, but in that final hug, I tried to say what words could not express--a deep appreciation for loving so generously, a futile hope for a miracle recovery, and a promise to be the husband, uncle, and son that I am capable of being.

I'm not sure there is much else to be said on the matter...other than thanks for putting up with somber Ben as of late. While the content has been sad, my heart is light. I have been blessed with wonderful people in my life, and I am thankful for the time I've had with them...even though it's felt fleeting at times.

Thanks for reading, my friends.