It began with great joy; my beloved family flew into Portland from around the world and we all headed out to the coast.  There, we celebrated my brother’s wedding to my amazing sister-in-love.  My mother officiated; their baby was in their ceremony; we all stood with them as they celebrated their family.

It was high hilarity, big beauty, love beyond love.

But that day we got word that my beloved grandmother, Mimi, had passed away.

Joy and mourning mingled as we packed up the bells and ribbons, drove back into town, bought plane tickets, and flew half a world away to Kentucky.  We honored this beautiful woman– one of the most elegant, gracious, salty people I have ever known– with our tears and our favorite Mimi stories.  (Did you hear the one about the gold shoes?)

Life has felt different since I got back from that funeral.  I’ve felt quieter.  Thoughtful.  Sad.   Welcoming in the melancholia of autumn and not quite feeling my usual snap and crackle as the leaves turn.

Instead of trying to boost myself into a false gaiety, I’m just letting this phase be okay.

There’s a lot of pressure in our culture to fight certain seasons of our lives, but the fact is, it can’t be high noon midsummer all the time.  When I embrace the rain, the shadowy days, the dark turnings and the whole messy cycle of life, I feel more alive, more gloriously human.

And sometimes right out of the rich brewing depths, something hilarious is born– like the night my little girl and I felt compelled to make a dance video to the uber-hipster tune “Party in the USA.”

I’m honoring this season as it gets colder, the trees flame red, I mourn my grandmother, and we pull sweaters around ourselves.  What season is it in your life?  Can you honor it instead of fighting it?

What Mimi Taught Me

Not only was my grandmother beautiful and hilarious, I’ve learned some amazing things from her.  Here are just a few of them.

*  Honor who you truly are.  Mimi was raised on a farm in rural Kentucky during the Depression.  But she had an innate elegance that she reflected in her clothing, her home, and her bearing.  Even when people around her weren’t exactly classing up the joint, she wasn’t afraid to dress well and be beautiful.  She’s my style icon.

*   Ritual is important.  For example, the 5pm cocktail hour was sacred at Mimi’s.  Crunchy and salty things were served in glass bowls; drinks were mixed generously with a little steel jigger.  Daily rituals nourish us and help us celebrate the physicality of our lives.

*   Loyalty above all.  Mimi always said, “We don’t have any ugly babies in this family.”  Every scrawny red bleary-eyed baby was beautiful because it was one of ours.  She was a stalwart supporter of those she loved, even when she didn’t necessarily love our choices.  We always knew she had our backs.

*   Laugh often.  Laugh loud.  Laugh long.  I’m lucky to be from a family who can crack itself up with only the merest hint of a joke.  Mimi could take a tiny ordinary moment of her day and turn it into a story that had us practically peeing in her pants– which is just another way to take hay and spin it into gold.  She passed this gift down to her kids, both epic storytellers.

*   Don’t worry if people laugh at your gold shoes.  Mimi loved gold shoes.  I bet she had a dozen pair: flats, sandals, pumps.  They were over the top, easy to make fun of, and one of our favorite things about her.  They made her feel classy, and she wore them all the time– and she was gorgeous in them.

*   Get mad fast, and cool down fast.  Mimi didn’t believe in holding grudges.  She and my grandfather would blow up at each other (she once said she couldn’t have knives sitting on her counter ’cause she’d be likely to kill her husband with them) but by the end of every evening, they were kissing and carrying on again.

*   Tell the truth, but don’t whine.  By the end, Mimi could hardly see the people she loved or the beautiful home she’d created.  She never pretended that it didn’t stink, and she didn’t like Pollyanna-ing, but she was also not a complainer.  I had to get trained as a coach to learn that I could shape my life depending on what ‘story’ I told myself– Mimi already knew that.

*   Invest in what’s important to you; save your pennies where it’s not.  We used to tease Mimi because she’d buy the cheapest beer in all of Kentucky; it was practically undrinkable.  But she laid the table at every meal with solid sterling silver flatware.  She played with good golf clubs.  She bought beautiful clothes.  It wasn’t about keeping up with anybody; she used her money to create a life that nourished her.  But she didn’t mind scrimping some places so she could splurge in others.

I am so rich because of the love she handed down, and the legacy of laughter, loyalty, elegance, and salty stories that she left.  I want to leave a legacy as rich as hers.