Reflections from Chile
Remembering my grandma and the important things
Being human always points, and is directed, to something, or someone, other than oneself—be it meaning to fulfill or another human being to encounter. The more one forgets himself—by giving himself to a cause to serve or another person to love—the more human he is and the more he actualizes himself. ... What is called self-actualization is not an attainable aim at all, for the simple reason that the more one would strive for it, the more he would miss it. In other words, self-actualization is possible only as a side-effect of self-transcendence.
- Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning
My 96 year old grandma, Nana, died three days ago.
She was my mom’s mom, and the mother to 10 kids and grandmother to 41 grandchildren.
I am 5,280 miles away in La Parva, Chile.
We knew it was coming as she had begun to slow down, for the first time in her 96 years, about two weeks ago.
My grandpa nicknamed my grandma, Patricia Murphy, who I have the tremendous honor of being named after, PM: Perpetual Motion, because she truly never stopped moving. The fact that she was able to have 10 kids in 11 years and be a loving and present grandma in all 41 of her grandchildren’s lives is a testament alone to her nickname.
But perhaps the most special quality of my grandma, to me, was her ability to always have the time to ask people about themselves and listen with care and attentiveness. She had a unique ability to question your pursuits with no judgement, simply curiosity and offer her own thoughts in a way that challenged and yet still encouraged.
My fondest memories were those when just the two of us were sitting at her dinner table and she’d ask me “So Tricia, tell me, where are you coming from and where are you going next?’
Although this was quite pertinent in a literal sense as I am always coming and going, Nana cared about the figurative sense too.
Our family group chat has been a lifeline to my grandma the past few days as everyone has shared their favorite memories and moments of a life that couldn’t possibly be put into words.
It reminds me of the importance of living life with your ‘funeral resume’ in mind. A ‘funeral resume’ is all the things talked about at your funeral, and, so often, I’ve found, the most important things that people remember you for, are not what you accomplished, but instead, what you gave and how you made people feel.
I remember being reminded of this so strongly at my paternal grandma, Deeda’s, funeral last fall. She was a friend to all.
Death has a poignant ability to remind us all to appreciate the small things, live in the moment, and not take anything for granted.
I wish I could remember this so purely every day.
Long, solo t-bar laps in frigid conditions have been a blessing these past few days in Chile, as I’ve had the time to reflect and take my time wandering down memory lane.
It feels wrong to not be flying home to celebrate my wonderful grandma’s life with my aunts and uncles and cousins and family friends. These are the people and community that mean so much to me.
My uncle and godfather, Peter, sent me an opportune text in the middle of these thoughts “She will be cheering you on as you attack the hills this season. I suspect, being the ski lover she is, and that you carry on her name, she may draw upon her new powers and guide you effortlessly down the challenging faces.“
I always say that ski racing has been the most consistent source of challenge in my life, and this is the reason I’ve learned so much from the sport and continue to pursue it.
But in my experience, challenge is often rout with variables outside our control which can lead to feeling helpless or like you’re fighting a futile battle with ones own ambitions. I’ve found, over time, that this frustration can be the root of much angst.
It’s easy to fall into getting frustrated by daily challenges and things outside of my control, but remembering my grandmas, and their funeral resumes, reminds me that the things that matter most are always in our control.
Of course, there’s meaning in my daily pursuits, whatever they may be, but, there is a sense of solace in letting go of my own agenda and remembering that no matter the circumstances, I am always in control of who and what I’m giving my energy to and how I am making the people around me feel.
Patricia Murphy was often described as energetic, extremely efficient, an engaged listener, disciplined mother, curious scholar, and independent even when unconventional. I can only hope to live up to a fragment of my name sake’s qualities and the light she was in so many lives.
I am incredibly grateful that I was able to say goodbye to Nana, one last time, before flying to Chile.
It was in her final days, when she had stopped her daily walks and was only consuming orange juice. You could count the number of days my grandma didn’t climb multiple flights of stairs on your hands, so we knew the end was near. My mom and I helped her into her pajamas, and although her memory wasn’t entirely there, her nature was. She playfully exclaimed “now, can I finally go to bed?” And when we affirmed, she graciously accepted our help and cheerfully wished us goodnight with a slightly less firm than usual, but ever more meaningful, hug.
Tricia- you were missed but know that Nana would have wanted you to be exactly where you are. Go be the best Patricia Murphy you can be and you will forever make PM the First so very very proud of PM the Second
Wonderful.