Who is G?
G.
The Egyptians believe we die twice, once when the breath leaves our body and once when the last person we know says our name.
With that in mind, I think the spirit of our loved ones is best kept alive by remembering them and telling stories of them often. While I could fill a book with “G stories,” I’ll do my best to keep this post to a respectful length. For me, G (my grandmother) is someone I can’t forget and think about daily. I’ve had many ambitions and aspirations in this life, from wanting to be a day trader, police office, paramedic, and even a timeshare salesmen (in fairness, I consider this an incredibly low point). Obviously none of these worked out to be my true calling.
“When looking back at your life, you will see that the moments which seemed to be great failures followed by wreckage were the incidents that shaped the life you have now.” -Joseph Campbell
Oftentimes, I felt like a ping pong ball and this constant bouncing from idea to idea was often met with criticism or the practical advice to “just do what normal people are doing.” If G had those thoughts too, she never shared them. She may have wanted to but could never find a good way to tell me without seeming unsupportive; however, I believe a good friend, mentor, and boss captured it aptly when he said, “you wouldn’t be half as interesting as you are if you had done what everyone else was doing.” Thanks Bill. I’d like to think G shared your sentiment.
Taking the road less traveled ultimately forged a skillset that lends itself perfectly to being a real life 007 (see also: my day job).
Said differently, G was never short on encouragement and supported every cockamamie (her word not mine) idea I ever had—even when she probably shouldn’t have. But it wasn’t so much the ideas; what I think she really supported was me following my bliss. Because of her, I was able to chase these dreams or whatever challenge seemed interesting that year. G was my perpetual cheerleader, my venture capitalist, my Airbnb, and most importantly, my therapist via late night and drive time phone calls. She always answered the phone and I never took that for granted.
I called her incessantly.
Sometimes, we’d be the only person each other spoke to that day—aside from the local police department that used to call her to check on her in the evenings. Hey, she lived alone in her 90s in a single family home, I was happy they kept tabs on her. And when she answered, she’d always ask me what I was up to and listen patiently to my daily recap before sneaking in her tech question of the day. “I know you’re busy and don’t have time for a little old lady but…” She’d start every one of our “IT support” sessions that way and I had to find ways to be there even when I couldn’t. We deployed every type of communication and remote access tool available: phone calls, text, Facebook, screen sharing, FaceTime, Alexa video calls, you name it—and she knew how to use them all!
She was really something special and I never met anyone that didn’t love her. Not just like, not simply respect, not casually aware of… no I mean they truly loved her. She just had that effect on people. She captivated anyone that met her. My friends would sometimes just pop in to say hi to her even when I wasn’t there, and family members on my mom’s side, decades after her divorce, would make a special trip to her house whenever they were nearby (thanks AJ and Aunt D).
Enough rambling. All of this is to say that I’ve dedicated the pursuit of following my bliss to her and here we are. Photography has been an unrelenting passion for me since I picked up a camera just to “take a few corporate profile pictures for our website at work.” Down the rabbit hole I went, and here you are too. Because of her. Because she taught me that I can do any stupid thing I want just as long as I believe in it 100% (even if that means flying a drone in the house). I love you G.
That time she let me fly a drone in her living room…
One of the many couch sessions with G.
She loved her grandkids and yes even rode a skateboard. She was so much cooler than us.
One last thing I’ll share, since you’re still here. G always told me that she loved the pink clouds. You know the ones that show up 10 minutes after the sun sets, when the sky seems to be on fire? She said, “When I die, I’ll be sitting on those clouds watching over you.” So the next time you see a brilliant sunset, give her a nod for me.