Sometimes a minute is longer than you think. When I said that to one of my teen-age kids, I didn’t realize how accurate I was.
Today would be my grandmother’s 127th birthday. Marguerite Pauline Dessein. I was named after her, as were two of my cousins. She was incredibly brave and believed in the future. Born and raised in Langres, France, she fell in love with an American soldier who was stationed in Langres during WWI, Alfred Oliver Evanson. He came back to Langres after the war, they were married there in the centuries old cathedral, and came to Seattle to build a life. Twas a toughie in the early 1920’s.
My mother’s parents, Grandmere and Grandpa Alfred were the portals to my journey here.
There have been times when those long minutes led me to other realizations. There were times when I showed up ready for a fight and realized there was no one there but me. Can you relate to that?
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Grandmere was incredibly stalwart.
She learned English, gave birth to three children, had Norwegian in-laws who I recall her telling me
were not too fond of her as she was French, and then her beloved husband died of tuberculosis after only fourteen years of marriage. There was no cure for TB in 1937. Her children were 13, 9, and 4.
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Her birth family in France did their best to love and support her. Moving back there was not an option for Grandmere at that time.
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Marguerite in Seattle, 1948 (c)MDessein
Oh, to ask her some questions now! I do have cousins in France: their grandmother, Charlotte and Marguerite were sisters. How cool is that? The novel I am nearing completion on (!) has many tidbits Grandmere told me over the years as I was growing up. The novel is historical fiction, yet is fun to have her comments about the cathedral, Denis Diderot and such said by characters in my novel.
You’ll love this. I love remembering it. Grandmere is in the hospital, it is her last days, many family members are there with her: her three children, spouses, teen-age me, a couple cousins. Soon talk moves from whispers to chat about who’s doing what, when and with whom. From her dying bed, my strident Grandmere says, “You should be praying. I’m dying.” Complete silence encircles the group, awkward looks are exchanged, and the rosaries are pulled out.
When I am facing a long minute, or what I perceive as a pending fight, I have learned to pause and ask, “What would my incredibly brave, stalwart, intelligent, strident and so loving Grandmere do?
