After my parents got divorced, we spent a lot more time with my grandmother, Gigi. She'd pick us up from school in her fancy Cadillac with brownies in a big ziploc bag and supply us with more Beanie Babies than we knew what to do with. We'd have dinner at her house on Friday nights- she'd make her famous vegetable soup, breaded chicken with jelly on top and her delicious mashed potatoes. Her apartment was always stocked with twizzlers, and she had plenty of legos and crayons to keep us busy.
Gigi never referred to her hair salon as anything other than "the beauty shop," and though I don't ever remember going there with her, I do remember thinking it sounded like a magical place. I never really understood how her hair stayed so perfect- bright white, always in place and fluffy like a cloud. To a little girl, it was a huge mystery. I pictured "the beauty shop" with tons of white, spinning chairs and a long wall of brightly lit mirrors. They would paint your nails and do your hair while you sat on those chairs, and if you wanted, you could even spin around in them. That place is still a mystery to me.
My Gigi could do anything and always looked fabulous doing it. I remember her dressing room table, complete with a mirror surrounded by lightbulbs and more makeup than a little girl could imagine. She always wore blue mascara because it brought out the blue in her eyes. She helped us feel glamorous, even as small children, by painting our nails whenever we asked. Her walk-in-closet, filled to the brim with beautiful clothing, was a perfect hiding spot for those of us under 3 feet tall.
When I received the horrible news that she had passed away yesterday, I wasn't sure how I would cope. My extended family is all in Baltimore, and my parents and sisters are still in Israel visiting my new nephew. Though my parents and sisters will be home Wednesday night for the Thursday funeral, it's hard not to be with them right now.
Still struggling to figure out how I should be coping, I got out of bed today, put on some lipstick and mascara (blue, of course) and headed out to Boston's version of "the beauty shop" to get my hair done...in celebration of my grandmother.
We all cope with things in different ways, and after spending a good part of yesterday wallowing and eating junk food, I wanted to use today to celebrate my grandmother's life. My Gigi had many notable qualities, such as her sharp wit, her strength as a matriarch and her love of her family, but today I wanted to celebrate a trait that stayed with her even through sickness: her elegance.
When she traded her finely tailored clothing and Ferragamos for track suits and slippers, she still accessorized with her favorite jewelry, sported pink nails and bright lipstick. Even as her health continued to fail, she'd still go to "the beauty shop" and come home with mysteriously gorgeous hair.
Though my most recent memory of my grandmother includes her sitting in her wheelchair at the assisted living, somewhat disoriented and upset, I prefer to remember her as I saw her at my cousin Jon's wedding. Though in her wheelchair, she was wearing a beautiful navy suit and a gold necklace, as you can see in the photo above. My dad and uncle helped her out of her wheelchair so she could stand, just for a few moments. She was beaming.
She never looked more beautiful.
