constance lumgair.

today would have been a perfect day.

i slept in, i ate kashi cereal, and i even wore my favorite color. i had salt water taffy with my brother while watching the office, and drove in his car with him and yuko singing coldplay and american pie at the top of our lungs. we ate sushi and sat in the sun. then i went on a bike ride with shumba. all of my favorite things were put into one day.

but there were lots of tears today, too.
the only reason that i did most of those lovely things was because i was very, very sad.

sad because i got a phone call at 11 o'clock and my father's somber voice informed me that my granny, his mom, had just died. she was surrounded by her family: my mom and dad were there, my sister and her baby, and even her best friend biddy had just arrived. she was 91.

the way that she left this world was so characteristic of the way that she seemed to dance through life: she did it quickly, gracefully, and with perfect timing.


my granny was one of my heroes. she was one of the most beautiful and vibrant people to ever live- of that i am convinced. her life was nothing short of extraordinary, her spirit was vibrant and vivacious, and each day of her life was embraced with pure enthusiasm.

she was passionate. she was stubborn. she was loving.


she did more exciting things in her life then i can ever hope to accomplish: she sailed around the world for years, was an extraordinary single mom, owned a factory, ran a community center, was a professional ballerina, owned and ran a dance studio, toured europe and the u.s. in a caravan, and ended each day with a glass of brandy.

"water? no i don't want water! i only drink water when it's mixed with brandy!"

this afternoon, nick and i thought it was only appropriate to tearfully sip a glass of the world's best beer in her honor.

"what!? you can't drink wine? oh, my dear, that is wretched! utterly wretched!"


she was overwhelmingly positive, even when things seemed impossible, and persevered through more trials than anyone else that i know. she was remarkable. she was delightful. she loved to laugh, and had the best sense of humor.

i loved the elegant way that granny spoke. very occasionally, she would say a word that, if uttered by someone else might have been unsavory or uncouth to me. maybe it was her rich south african accent, or perhaps her manner, but her words were never vulgar or course. just charming, somehow.

"butt? is that what you call it these days?... in MY day, we called it an ass!"
(that only really works if you say it in a british accent)

she loved Jesus, too. she was saved late in life, but that didn't stop her from praying with beautiful simplicity and enthusiasm, and from reading her little black bible every day.

(this was at the airport... the last time i saw my beloved granny)

the thing that makes me cry the most, though, is the thought of how she is now. she's no longer constrained by that squeaky wheelchair, and the lost neurological connections that crippled her are no longer of any consequence. i know that she didn't just walk into heaven. she was dancing. she was dancing a more beautiful, graceful and flawless dance than she had ever composed in her youth. she's probably still dancing. and she's dancing for her savior... the veil has been lifted. her faith is now sight.


i just wish i could see that dance.

i miss her already.