My maternal grandmother is something of a mystery to me.
Growing up in a country on a completely separate continent means that I knew her much less than my cousins of the same generation. Her passing in 2012 marked the end of a 93 year run Earthside, and I didn't know her as well as I should have.
In spite of this fact, I still have much of her. Her cheekbones, her jawline, her thin lips. Her love for growing plants and flowers. Her appreciation for Fado; more notably Fado da Coimbra. My mom told me her favourite song was "Samaritana", and it truly is a spectacular piece of music. Her stubborn streak and her heated responses to things that bother me...I also know that I inherit a lot of my intuition from the women of her bloodline. I like to imagine that I inherited her spiritual tendencies, though I rejected Catholicism ages ago. Energy is energy; so even though I don't adhere to "sky daddy" theology, I do have faith in energy.
Avó in her younger days
My grandmother loved to make things; she was a master of bread baking and of delicately crocheted masterpieces (example only) that exist in many of our homes. I crochet, though I don't practice the same beautifully curated pieces of lacey decor that she made. My mom got that gift; of using the finely woven cotton to create white panels that seem to dance when hung in windows, or draped across a bed (oh, and the bread, too). I make tomten and Among Us crew mates; but each time I chain stitches with hook and yarn, I almost feel Avó talking to me through it. I wonder to myself if she would appreciate that I'm making something...and I wonder how many of my cousins might do something similar.
Just a small sample of her skill...
My fanciest Tomten
I share her deep admiration for beautiful footwear, and her inability to wear it. I've had to learn to develop that appreciation for gym shoes...not quite the same as a lovely pair of classy 4" heels, but, hey...when do I have a reason to wear those, anyway? Avó might be proud of the super sweet deal I just scored on some "new" Nikes to replace the ones I "lost" in the fitness centre debacle. This is another story for another time, but the lesson is to not leave your shoes at the gym - no matter how many other people do.
Poshmark hooked a b*tch up with some kicks
I was inspired to write this little story about my grandmother, because I brought home a bottle of Carolans Irish Cream. Avó loved it, and I appreciate a splash of it in my coffee. So, I came home, made some coffee, threw on some fado, and started writing.
"Os Carolinos"
A funny little sidenote: there is a Sabaton song called "The Caroleans' Prayer". Hearing that my grandmother called her favourite Irish cream "Os Carolinos" immediately crossed lines in my head, and now I have forever solidified my Portuguese Avó with a Swedish power metal band. Avó in 2011; the year before she passed to the ancestors
Sabaton - very clearly not my Portuguese grandmother
Hail yourselves!
S
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