Our Precious Past: Mary Evelyn Carvalho 1915-2010

Grandma Mary with her cat, Sylvester

In August of 2010, my beloved Grandma Mary passed away.

When Vern called to tell me that my Grandmother had passed away, I felt a deep sense of sorrow and loss. Though we know our parents or grandparents won’t live forever, the news of one’s passing leaves one not knowing what to say, an empty space inside, a space that cannot be filled with words. Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be. This loss for words leaves a person in a state of reflection and it is in reflection that we grow. Reflection is what happens when we look into a mirror, and all of us are truly reflections of the mirrors we call Parents or Grandparents.

As I reflected on my grandmother’s life, my sense of loss was soon replaced by gratitude, as I became keenly aware of the beautiful legacy she left me. Her gifts can’t be counted, they don’t take up space, but they are just as tangible, and for me are precious.

I have wonderful memories of Grandma Mary and Grandma Emma, and of the warm rich days I spent out at the ranch or here in Nipomo. I was a child of a golden age, an age that has ended, but one I can visit whenever I want in my mind.

Because she gave life to my father, who gave life to me, I was able to continue her genetic line, and the three greatest gifts Grandma Mary left me are my three sons. In each of them I see a little bit of her.

My Grandmother had a backbone of steel. I only saw her break down twice in half a century. Each time, she quickly rebounded. A strong woman, when she made a decision, she stuck to her guns. No swaying her if she thought she was right. Fiercely protective of her two sons, she loved them deeply, and worked hard to instill in them the values that were so important to her.

But all children must follow their own path, and when my father strayed from his responsibility, Grandma Mary and my other 12 grandparents did all they could to make up for his absence, making sure I was included in family events, driving to Hanford to pick me up, keeping me weekends and summers. Taking me to cultural events, and to visit family and friends, making sure I knew my roots. Grandma had a strong sense of family and of responsibility. She worked hard and saved. I see those qualities in my eldest son, Aaron, who after serving his country in the Bosnian conflict, returned home to work as a surgical nurse. He manages his money brilliantly, so his wife can stay home with their two children. I see in Aaron Grandma’s steely backbone, a strong sense of responsibility to family, and a strong pure character. He also loves to dance!

And boy could Grandma dance!

Once, I went to visit my mother in Hanford and found out Grandma and Bobbie were at a dance that very night. I jumped in the car, drove downtown, and found them. As I walked into the dance hall, she and Bobbie were really cutting a rug. I didn’t know she could dance like that!

People were watching from the sidelines, because really, they were spectacular! In her later years, she joined the Strutters, a performing group she danced with for years. Grandma was very artistic; she had a wonderful eye for color and balance and beauty. She enjoyed making things. That love for color and beauty and art is a gift I’ve been privileged to inherit.

Grandma left me with a hilarious sense of humor in Rob, my middle son. Rob is the storyteller of our family. He keeps the rest of us laughing. He has a quick wit, playful eyes, and a generous sense of hospitality, qualities he inherited from Grandma Mary. What a wonderful hostess she was! Do you remember how she loved having company, decorating the house, setting the table, and serving a beautiful meal. She kept your glass full and made sure you were comfortable. She also entertained you with stories and laughter. Rob is so much like in this respect, a gracious host who cares deeply for his friends.

One time, Grandma Mary took Grandma Emma, Mark and I to Pismo for 2 weeks in her 5th wheel. On the last day of our vacation, the beach was covered with sand dollars. Mark and I spent hours collecting them in plastic bags. We must have had a couple of hundred sand dollars. We picked them up and took them home to Nipomo, where we carefully laid them all out in the sun, up and down the driveway, on the flower pots, on the porch, on the car, just everywhere, to dry out. I don’t remember what we thought we’d do with them.

Two days later, the whole place smelled of dead fish. Bruce, who rarely said two words to me, was SO angry, the steam was coming out of his ears. And Grandma just laughed at him. She laughed until she cried as she helped us pick up those stinking sand dollars so we could dispose of them, breaking out into a chuckle every few minutes. I can just hear her laugh! I don’t know why she thought it was so funny, but for some weird reason, when Bruce started complaining, it would tickle her. He’d holler and she’d laugh! I was afraid of him, but her laughter drove away my fear. Her sense of humor was uplifting, as was her entire presence.

And what a presence it was! Grandma was very careful about her appearance. Always neat, dressed to a tee, her hair and nails were always done beautifully. Her jewelry, shoes, and purse matched and she always managed to look like she just walked off the face of a fashion magazine. She even ironed her jeans!

I used to tease her because she’d put on her makeup and dress, complete with jewelry to go work in the yard. Grandma wore BIG sparkling jewelry, and I always regretted not having the stature to pull it off. A very classy lady was my grandma!

I remember one time when I was in 3rd grade, she took me to Superior Dairy for ice cream and we ran into some of my classmates. Next day at school, they all said, “Wow! Your mom sure is pretty!” With pride, I answered, “That’s not my mom… that’s my GRANDMA!” I was always so proud of her, so proud to walk beside her. She was a great beauty.

That sense of pride in appearance, that strong presence and easy self-confidence, is reflected in my youngest son, Cameron. Cameron has beautiful taste and enjoys the finer things in life. He knows what to say and when to say it. He calms my fears. He’s very self-confident and I have no doubt that he’ll be successful. Cameron is also wise, like Grandma. When I don’t know how to handle a situation I turn to Cameron, and he lifts me up, soothing my aching heart and giving me counsel.

For me, the brilliance of Grandma’s legacy is blinding as its reflection shines from the eyes of my children and grandchildren, and I’ll bless her for the rest of my life for these gifts.

I think family trees are much like real trees. Some branches grow fast at first, then break and die early with the weight of their own splendor. Other branches produce, but lacking nourishment, the fruit they grow is bitter and hard with no viable seed. But sometimes, the branches that are pruned back the hardest, the ones that survive the harsh winter, produce the most beautiful blossoms. Those branches grow strong and full, and bring peace to all who rest in their shade. And when Fall comes, their fruit is sweet, and good. That is the legacy my grandmother left for me, good fruit.

The last year or so of Grandma’s life was sad for me. As she retreated into her own little world, I found it a little more difficult to connect with her. She’d be present for a bit, I’d see that beautiful self in her bright eyes, then a fog would drop, and she’d be off again in her own head. The last time I visited, there were moments I wondered if she even knew I was there.

Until the last day, when I was leaving, and she asked “Where’s Debbie?”

Patti replied, “She’s right here. She’s getting ready to go home.”

Grandma said, “So soon?”

Those two words broke my heart and continue to haunt me. In retrospect, I should have dropped those bags and stayed another few nights. I should have sat next to her and talked to her and tried to draw her out more. I should have reminisced and tried to help her remember some of those good times… but I didn’t.

Instead, I cried as I pulled out of the driveway of 416 Venus Court, knowing it probably would be the last time I saw her, hugged her, heard her voice.

And it was…

Vern called… and now she’s gone… somewhere. Where, well I’m not sure what I believe when it comes to death. Except I know for sure that wherever she is, there is LIGHT. Because Grandma Mary lit up every room she ever walked into.

The most precious gift of all that my Grandmother Mary gave me was her time. Rich soil to grow in; wondrous moments filled with love and joy and laughter and healing, a warm place in her heart. It was a gift of great beauty and tremendous inspiration. A gift I’ll treasure forever. One I’ll tuck away and pull out whenever I need a lift or a laugh or a good cry. The gift I’ll be thankful for every time I look at one of her beautiful great-grandsons, or her great-great-grandchildren.

When I think of Grandma Mary I’ll think of the beautiful Lady figurine given to her by my Grandpa Fred, of bouncing Boston Terriers, of Jazz Bands and flowery hats and deep red roses, of hula skirts and ceramic natives, of Flamenco dancers, and the haunting scent of Interlude. I’ll think of travel, of Portuguese sweet bread, waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, Pismo Beach, visiting old friends, and her bangle bracelets I used to string on my legs. I’ll think of taming wild kittens, the scent of oranges and the calming comforting feel of her presence. I’ll think of our first train ride to Chicago and this last train ride I’ve taken to celebrate her life.

Thank you so much, Little Grandma, for all the gifts you gave me.
May they grow stronger with each generation.
May you walk in the Light that is the Breath of the Universe.
Until we meet again.

I’ll miss you.