Sunday, August 7, 2016

Louise J. Vigil

It takes a long time to sift through memories, these days. When I think of my Grandma Louise though, a flood of memories come to mind. I remember my grandmother accompanied with a range of emotions, from passionate arguments and confrontations to effortless friendships, altruism and humor. She fought a lot, gave a lot, and laughed a lot. When Louise was younger, she worked for the war effort, helping to build grenades during World War II. How fitting it is, the imagery sticks with me to this day. She had a fiery temperament and an explosive personality.

She's in my heart and in my blood even now, as my wife and son can verify. Being in a job that requires a presence in public, I meet a lot of people and shake hands, and wave to anonymous passers-by. It's often difficult to make an impression from an interaction that lasts a few seconds. So it's imperative that you leave people with some knowledge that you're an important part of EACH OTHER'S lives. I found you always knew where you stood with Louise. You were the priority. Most notably to me, though, was the fact she kept an amazingly extensive record of names in her head. She knew names of cousins I still don't know to this day – a fact that is to my utter shame. She once told me her secret: she knew everyone by name because they all meant something to her. At first listen, her statement sounds so simple, even as a common sense quote quilted on a pillow, but there's a lot more at work in HOW she relayed this secret. With each day at my job, her thoughts resonate. Almost everybody meant something to her. That hits hard, and I want to try to live up to that thinking.



In summing up our relationship, I'm told I need to relay memories of my time with Grandma Louie:

-- I remember watching funny Burt Reynolds movies with her, laughing at the f-words, while I spent the night. I was always falling asleep with a giant bowl of ice cream in my lap.

-- I remember watching TV with her, as the Broncos went to their first Super Bowl, the stadium noise blaring right outside her front yard, on a colorfully-lit evening during the holidays.

-- I remember the beers we had in her high rise apartment, looking over the Denver skyline, chatting about what I wanted to do in life; she always said it didn't matter, as long as I remembered my family.

-- I remember the arguments we had later, but the feelings vaporized as we hugged again.

-- I remember telling her my newborn son's name. 
"Kalel! What the hell?"
I was still a kid at heart, but I had no idea her rap game was off the chain.

-- I remember when her recollections, stories and their details started to fade. She still remembered nicknames she had for some of us. A couple of them were the 'cussy' ones.

-- I remember once telling her life was tough. She said, "Bullshit. You stopped praying."



And so, and finally, at long last, it has come to this—
May you rejoice in your newly discovered reunions.
May you breathe new air, move with no pain, remember with no sorrow.
May you rest in the arms of a loving, giving, graceful God who knew your name from the very beginning.
Louise.
Peace be with you.
Peace.

-- Grandson, 2016


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