I’ve been struggling to find the words to write this blog. Maybe it’s because I’m not ready to process this loss. Maybe it’s due to the fear of being so vulnerable about one of the dearest relationships I’ve had in my life. Maybe it’s because there are no words that can accurately portray what I want to say. It could be any of these reasons but it’s likely fear of finality. Once I put these words on paper, once I hit submit, this all becomes real: Marney is gone.
Grief hurts. It hurts a lot. And I never experienced the truth in and weight of that statement until my beautiful grandmother lost her battle with cancer last week. Since receiving the phone call from my dad in Nicaragua, since I had my final conversation with a very sick woman whom I barely recognized over the phone, a weight has been on my heart that has been impossible to lift. A foundation of the past 24 years of my life has been stripped away and with that foundation stripped away, I have to re-teach myself how to stand.
I listened to a podcast on grief last week and this statement stuck out to me: when we swallow grief, our body rejects it. It resonated hard. I can force myself (and fail) to return to the journey I was on before this tragedy or I can accept that grief is a part of God’s plan for me this year. And holding true to my promise of taking you along on this journey with me, I hold this grief out to anybody reading this with open hands, Above my own vulnerability, however, I want to hold out just a glimpse of who Marney was with open hands, share just a few of the lessons she taught me and a small fraction of the memories I’ll always hold near.
Be kind. It was that simple. Marney was never a mother or grandmother with a lot of rules. She simply insisted on kindness; it was her motto and one that was instilled in all of us. She opened her house up to friends, family, strangers and the not so occasional animal. She would turn a simple dinner into a therapy session with our waitress. She sacrificed her time, desires and needs to ensure that everyone around her was happy.
Growing up, my family had a Bichon Frise, Patches. I will boldly and confidently go on the record in saying he was the best dog; Marney and Grampa didn’t necessarily agree. Sure, they tolerated him but something about his peeing on their oriental rugs and licking their faces was a little off-putting. So when the time came when my sister and I were heading to college and my parents couldn’t take care of him, it was tie to find him a new home. Seeing the sadness in our eyes, Marney and Grampa offered to take care of Patches for us: “Really? Do you even like him?” Nevertheless, they insisted.
I was pleasantly unsurprised to visit during my first fall break and see that Patches had made a new best friend in Marney. They were inseparable! She spoiled him with treats we never let him have, bought him sweaters when it got cold and gave him permanent residency on her lap. And when it was time to put Patches down, there is nobody kinder who could’ve lead the process. She instantly called the family down to be with him in his final moments, asked the veterinarian to come to the house and we all sat in the sunroom, showering him with final kisses and squeezes before he peacefully dozed off sitting in her lap. I can only imagine the reunion those two are experiencing right now.
Love unconditionally. Marney knew what true love looked like. The beautiful love my grandparents shared for 58 years was the foundation of the Batchelder Family values and poured out of the two of them in the way they raised their boys and eventually, alongside their boys, their grandchildren. She let us make our own decisions and gently redirected us when we wandered off the path. She knew we weren’t perfect and never expected us to be! I was never afraid to go to Marney because I knew she would never show anger or disappointment in me. She simply and consistently showed me love.
My college roommate Chelsea and I lived with Marney and Grampa the summer after graduation and therefore both turned to Marney in panic and despair for life crises at one point or another (I believe Chelsea’s was within the first week she’d met Marney, a testament to how easy she was to open up to). I remember coming home one night after work in tears, closing the door and just collapsing into Marney’s arms. For almost an hour, she just held me and let me cry, not even knowing what upset me. When I calmed down, I spilled out my fears, regrets and unhappiness in where my life was headed; how could I have graduated college and not know what I want to do? She listened, asked questions and when I was ready, helped me figure out my next step. As a result of that conversation, I dropped out of AmeriCorps and applied for the World Race.
Seek out joy. Marney had a laugh that could be heard miles away. She would lean her head back, silently exhale for a few seconds before the laughter began uncontrollably. It was a deep, genuine laugh that was so easy to trigger. She and Grampa taught us to find joy in every moment. With them, we could be goofy; in fact it was expected! She wasn’t afraid to laugh at herself and it went against her human nature to take life too seriously. She saw the beauty in joy and opened my eyes to see that same beauty.
If you ever wonder where I got my dramatic singing in the middle of a room, turn to those two. When I lived with them, it was a daily routine when the three of us were in the room to belt “Tomorrow” from Annie in it’s entirety. And when the song was over, we let the silence sit for a second before rolling over in laughter.
A life without Marney here on Earth is scary to think about, especially as we begin to walk through it. In my last conversation with her, she told me to “take all of the love I have for you and make something special.” So as I fly back to Panama, that’s what I intend to do. There’s so much comfort in knowing she’s now on this Race with me, always reminding me to be kind, love unconditionally and seek out joy.
Over the past week, there has been a lot of mourning and a lot of tears but also a lot of joy celebrating one of God’s most beautiful creations. I struggle to wrap this up as grief isn’t something that can be wrapped up but these words my Grampa shared are ones I’ll hold on to throughout this journey: “If anybody embodies God and the character of God, it’s Nancy.”
