not to be outdone

Blake hugged me last week and asked how I was doing. His tone was very gentle.

“Uh, fine…” I replied with some suspicion.

“Today’s the day your grandma died.”

I hadn’t realized it. I don’t think about the precise day that she died. I don’t really think about her dying at all, only that she’s not here. The day she died doesn’t feel important, which is a kindness.

I told Blake I was thinking about Grandma’s birthday that’s coming up. That’s the truth too. To the best of my knowledge she always welcomed a birthday party.

I bought a new dress this week. I hadn’t connected it to Grandma’s birthday, but yesterday morning I started writing about her, and then I put it on because if I was going to see her on her birthday I would most definitely wear this dress. It feels good when people show an effort for your birthday. It communicates affection. Reverence. The celebration is manifested. I even considered what kind of boots I’d wear if I was going out for supper with her because it’s February, after all. I imagined her commenting on my dress. I’d probably tell her I got a good deal.

I wouldn’t describe my grandmother as vain, but a friend of mine said recently that a little more vanity in the world wouldn’t hurt anyone. Inwardly I disagreed, attributing it to pride and conceit. But later that week I heard a women I respect discussing vanity on a podcast. She believed that people who indulge in a level of vanity tend to take notice of the particular ways that others express themselves. In this noticing they may be inclined to select gifts that are uniquely fitted to an individual. The “good gift giver” types. Also, a person who attends to their appearance takes good care of themselves overall. I’d certainly say that Grandma took care of herself. She was health conscious. She travelled. She liked a new outfit. She indulged in manicures for occasions. Her personality was playful and she was known not to be outdone. Her humour was sharp-witted and cute. She liked to get a good jab in. She wasn’t afraid to throw some shade. When my 61 year-old uncle said he was going parasailing she made sure that she was signed up as well and stole all the thunder. She was nearly 83.

In light of all this, I’m embracing the vanity that I’ve concealed and/or excused as part of my work. But it’s not shameful to want attention! Everything needs attention. Even houseplants. I’m reframing my own vanity as a way to show that I care. To show that I’m showing up.

What I miss most about my grandmother — aside from everything — is being with her in her home. It was akin to being held by her. Being made buoyant by her. Merely thinking about it brings a peaceful feeling. It’s a quality I want to embody simply because of the comfort that it gives others.

Today, for her birthday, I’ll cook and I’ll dress. I’m making a rather legendary dish from the Lutheran Ladies Cookbook that my husband brings up to friends because of its name… which is fair. It’s called African Chow Mein. Blake first tasted it at Grandma’s, but it’s a staple on mom’s side of the family. I’d never given it any thought until Blake heard the name and laughed. It is ridiculous! A mess from a culinary perspective, but in the context of my family’s culture (and by extension, The Lutheran Ladies Cookbook) it’s casserole gospel.

It ain’t fancy, and probably not something I’d expect anyone to put on a new dress to eat, but traditions are about summoning a desired feeling, not about optics.

Happy birthday, Laila. xo