Vivian Miller

Well, my great grandma Vivian died today at 12:30 in the afternoon.
She was so strong. Of all the character traits that she exhibited over the years, her strength is what sticks with me. She helped plant a church with my great grandfather, she was a farm girl, the eldest, and looked after all of her siblings. When her husband died, she found her strength in her faith and her family. The Eash family, her maiden family, became our family. Closer than most families I know, and a blessing to all of us. She played guitar. Harmonica. Piano (a bit). She had a radio show as a teenager, and taught the first Vacation Bible School class at my grandparent's church. She was very close to my dad, and that enabled she and I to be close. She tolerated me at times, and praised me others. She was a great grandma, not just my great grandma.

Her eyesight died several years ago, and she's been groggy the past 4 years or so. Sometimes lapsing out of when and where she was. Seeing the way she could be at times was painful, but in a way that you ended up feeling bad for her, not you. She used to voice sentiments concerning why God had chosen to keep her alive, but so impaired... but I honestly think that it wasn't without reason. In the past few years, the last of my generation of family members have been born, and had a chance to meet her. In the past few years, she has come out of her haze long enough to understand some of the events taking place around her. At times, I don't think she comprehended, but many other times, it seems that she did. She would ask questions, sing along to old hymns, and play detective with me over dates and names. We'd try to discover important dates, like what year she got married, and what her first job was. She'd hold my hand so tight these last few years. For warmth. For connection. For love. I will miss her, and not just the strong, independent great grandmother that I knew as a child. The one that got angry at my sister for not finishing games, and always had one of those weird fiberoptic flowers that rotated and changed color... hypnotising me as I tried to fall asleep on sleepovers at her house. Come to think of it, she was THE ONLY relative that would watch wrestling with me. I don't think anybody knew we did, either. She probably knew I wouldn't have been allowed to. As I look at the past few years, I realize that I'll miss this great grandma too. And possibly just as much. I know it sounds strange, seeing that she was just a shell of the woman that she once was, but in many ways, she was still progressing. Still growing. Still teaching me. Still living. Some would say that she was hardly living, but I beg to differ. We are who we are. If our eyes are gone, if we have difficulty remembering or focussing, it doesn't stop us from being who we are. If she had been killed in an accident, or died suddenly, I would never have gotten to know the delightfully frustrated, open and vulnerable woman I've had the pleasure of knowing these past 10 years. Somewhere in the laughter over the inability to remember one's birthday, there is a beauty. A peace, and a knowledge that she didn't have to know. That I was so happy to hold her hand that she didn't need to worry about silly little issues like memory or the ability to see. In her hands, she held all the answers of the moment. The love of her grandchild, and the future of her family.

Here's to one of the greatest women I've ever known.

Vivian Miller
Decemeber 7, 1914 - March 10, 2005