Grace L.E. McPherson was released, last week, from a body that could no longer carry her. If you ever met my grandmother you would remember her. Maybe it was her bold fashion sense, the rich, melodious sound of her laugh, or the way she could win any card game with delicate, manicured hands. I remember her sense of surprise, every time, at landing in the winner's circle. The expression of shock was so convincing I assume it was genuine though, if it was an act, she had years of opportunity to perfect its appearance.
As my grandmother drifted into dementia over the past decade she never allowed herself to fade into the background. She stuck in there. She wanted to know what was going on, she wanted to recognize the faces around her. Rather than resigning to the uncertainties she asked again and again.
Grace L.E. McPherson left an indelible mark on this world. If I believe in an afterlife I can only envision she entered with the same movie-star panache with which she walked among us for ninety-one years.
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