The Fighter’s Legacy: Generations of Unassuming Resilience

I’m at a point in my life now that I do not have any living grandmas. I have watched my mom as a grandma, and others around her, and it might be weird to say this, but I can’t wait to be a grandma. 

It honestly sounds lovely. 

Don’t get me wrong, being an aunt and a mom has also been delightful so far. My path into motherhood has been less conventional than I anticipated, and with it comes added frustrations as well was moments of rest I may not have otherwise had. 

My daughters, Lauryn and Madelyn, are not my biological daughters. They call me many names depending on the moment. Jade, Jadie, Mama, Jadey-Waup. Maddy says because her biological mom is still alive, I am a “bonus mom,” and Lauryn will often call me her step-mom. 

None of these upset me. I love them, and I think of them as my daughters. When they are not around, I still feel like a part of me is missing. 

It’s probably a weird comparison, but it reminds me of when COVID was “over,” and we didn’t have to wear masks in stores anymore. I still had the feeling I was forgetting something, or something was missing. 

Which is funny, because when we needed to wear masks, I would routinely get to the front door, see the icon, and realize that I needed to go all the way back to the car to get my mask. Considering this was a years-long process, you’d think I would’ve gotten used to it. 

The difference is, with girls, I don’t ever forget them. I don’t feel frustrated when I need to do something for them. Well, not frustrated with them at least. 

My role as a bonus mom, step-mom, extra adult… whatever I am sometimes feels lonely. Maybe this is something a lot of parents feel. 

I sometimes feel like I’m ‘in line’ to become ‘Mom’ in a matriarchal sense, like royalty waiting to inherit the throne. I don’t want it to be a competition, or for someone to have to die for me to feel important or needed, so maybe that’s not a great analogy either. 

Although I want to feel important, I also know I will never be “mom” to my girls. I also know I play an important role for them, and I have so much love for them. At the end of the day, no one can make you feel as comforted as “mom” can. 

I can already hear the “yeah but…” or “what if…” happening. So let me rephrase it. In my life, no one can make me feel the way my mom has.  

She is truly delightful, and such a perfect depiction of dialectics. 

She has this comforting and understanding way about her. Like she can hug you from a distance, and the feeling washes over you. Her voice is so soothing and calming. 

At the same time, she is logical and uses reason to solve problems. She is thoughtful about her actions, and has an intensity that once sparked, rarely can be slowed down. She represents this “Mama Bear” essence, and I would dare anyone to mess with her. 

Similar to my own physical struggles, from the outside you might not see her strength. You might not see her and understand what she is capable of, or the invisible fight she is always fighting. 

This Monday, July 28th was my grandma’s birthday. My mom’s mother. 

My grandma passed away years ago, and of all of the grandmas I had she was who I was the closest to. She lived in Colorado, only a few miles from where I grew up, and we spent a lot of time with her. 

On Monday, I spent a lot of time thinking about grandma. Her name was Mardell, but she apparently did not like her name very much, and went by Mardy instead. 

Like my mom, she embodied the spirit of dialectics. 

She was very generous. Her and my grandpa seemed to follow the value of “taking care of your own.” For the most part, if you let her know you needed something, she would be right there for you. Helping you figure it out. 

On the flip side, she was a bit of a spitfire. She was not afraid to tell you how she felt about your behavior and how she thought you could improve it. In true grandma fashion, she was usually right. Whether I knew it at the moment or not. 

As a kid, I didn’t realize how strong she was. She was just Grandma. I heard stories about her, like she moved away from her family in 6th grade so she could continue school, because where she lived girls did not go to school after age 12. 

I think about my girls now, Maddy is almost 10 and Lauryn is 15, and I do not see either of them choosing to do that. It is very strong, almost a power move, and I am impressed with her. 

The story of how my grandparents met also makes me smile. 

My grandpa was in the Air Force, and one of his friends asked out my grandma. Being the strong independent woman she is, she said “no,” and turned to my grandpa and asked him out instead. 

Obviously, I was not alive in the 1950s, but I don’t get the impression this was a common response. I love it. She was very strong, and the relationship she and my grandpa had was beautiful. 

They were both strong. Neither of them expected the other to just be the dictator of their life together. Grandpa told me once, “relationships are not 50/50. They require both people giving 100% all of the time.”

They showed me that. They supported each other, and together found ways to succeed. From what I saw as a child, and even now, they succeeded a lot!

Maybe that’s one of the benefits of being a grandparent. 

Many of the grandparents I know are in their 50s or 60s when this part of their life starts. For the most part, they are at the end of their careers or retired, their children no longer live with them, and they are providing support for their families. 

This is not to say they are not busy, because it also seems that the grandparents I know, at least in the beginning, are some of the busiest people I know. 

The difference, I think, is that they are often busy with what they want to be doing, rather than just out of necessity. 

This reminded me of a Netflix show, 100 Humans. (I think it’s still on, but this website also shows the top 10 findings from the show.) I enjoyed watching this show, they compared in the moment findings with what research has shown. 

In general, the theory is that humans have a U shape of happiness. This is particularly true for those living in Western countries. Although current research is showing this might be changing, it shows even more increased happiness after 60… 

Being a grandma does sound pretty fabulous. In order to get there, I do have to ride the decline of midlife first. The other thing the show didn’t discuss is getting a chronic illness diagnosed in my mid 30s, so there’s that. 

Maybe much of the time I was able to know my grandma Mardy was during the golden years of happiness, but I also know she was also carrying a lot that was mostly unseen, in a very graceful way. 

One of my hardest memories with Grandma was very close to the end of her life. She was in the hospital, my mom and many of my aunts and uncles had been in and out spending a lot of time with her. I was there, because the staff suggested hospice might be the next step for her, and my family wanted my input. I had worked in nursing homes for several years at that point, and had been present for many similar conversations. 

None were with my grandma. 

The hospice social worker came in, gave her explanation of services, we all asked a few specific questions. Shortly after she left, so did many of my family members. I was then in the room with Grandma and Grandpa. 

This was a much different feeling than other times I had been alone with them. They were usually playful and joking with each other. Today, understandably, that was not the case. It was mostly quiet. 

Then, Grandma turned to me. “Jade,” she said, “do you think it’s time for me to be on hospice?”

Even now, as I write this, I can feel my eyes get big. I don’t know. How do we ever know? 

I don’t remember what I told her exactly, but I wanted her to be comfortable and happy. I knew that she hated all of the poking and prauding she got at the hospital. Hospice meant she could go home, and be more comfortable.  

I also know I didn’t give her a yes or no. It was her choice. A really really hard choice. 

The next day, she went home with hospice care. It wasn’t long, maybe three days, before she passed. Her children and husband were there with her, and the rest of the family was asked to give her privacy and space. 

I can’t help feeling like that was another power move from Grandma. 

Throughout her life, she always decided how she wanted to live, and made it happen. The same was true for the end. She fought, until she decided not to. 

There is so much I have learned about life from Grandma, and I am thankful she is in my life. I used to have guilt for having that last conversation with her, because I felt like it was my fault. Now, I think it was nobody’s fault.

Grandma was just showing us all how powerful she is, again. 

In my own progression with MS now, I hope I can channel some of my grandma’s strength and sureness. So far in life, I have had many times that I felt I needed to “prove” that I could hang with the boys. I think I’ve done an okay job of it, even. 

As a meat cutter, I did not take the assumption that I didn’t know what I was talking about because I was a girl. I proved I did. Same with working at Coors when a group of guys came in thinking I didn’t know what I was talking about. 

Many times in my life, when stereotypes have been assumed of me, I have felt it was almost a mission to prove them wrong. To succeed anyway. 

I think Grandma expected this of herself, and raised her children similarly. Because of this, my mom modeled unassuming strength for me, and showed me how she could carry the dialectic power she does. 

In my next step, I hope I am able to continue to carry and embody the non-stop fiestiness that my grandma had. There is no cure for MS, and I have been told that the infusion I get twice a year is the strongest one that exists right now. 

It seems as though my symptoms are continuing to progress, even though I am doing all the things recommended to treat this disease. 

I feel I am left now with a choice. One that I am afraid of. 

There is a treatment that can pause my symptoms, because there is not a way to regrow the myelin, and “reboot,” my immune system. Autologous Hematopoietic Stem Cell Transplantation (AHSCT). ← It’s a pretty big deal. If you’re curious about it, click here to learn more. 

I don’t have any doctors right now, so… it’s not happening right away. Which might be good. I get more time to think about it. Haha. 

As I am writing this, I am feeling chills and tingling, and the hair on my arms are standing up. Truthfully, I am not sure if this is MS, but I would like to believe it is my grandma. She’s with me while I think about my next step.

Also, need a smile?  This is my favorite part from the show 100 Humans. A guy singing about tic tac toe. Haha. I still have it in my head.