My grandmom, Mary, grew up on her family farm. She would tell me stories of the hard work she had to do around the farm and the house as a young girl- harvesting vegetables and taking care of the animals, cleaning the house and helping cook in the kitchen. But even so, she would tell me about the mischief she and her siblings would get into. I think a lot of people would think she had a grueling life growing up on a farm, but she made it sound like the best childhood you could hope for. And every time she would reminisce, a guilty smile would appear on her face.

When thinking about Mary’s life, a lot of it makes sense when you remember her story. She took the values that she was taught as girl and brought them to her family. As a mother she was gentle and caring, but as a mother of seven boys, she was also firm and resilient. Mary and her husband raised their family in a house they built on the family farm. From the kitchen window you could see the field and the farmhouse at the top of the hill. It was comforting to her to be so near to her parents and brother who lived in the farmhouse and to her sisters who lived on either side of her house. She surrounded herself and her family with the people that she loved.

Mary led a life by example. She drew an extraordinary amount of strength and peace from her faith. She worked hard and made sacrifices to ensure her children all attended Catholic school. She taught them to forgive and not hold grudges; to be sincere and polite; to live a moral life through faith and kindness. She prepared her children for marriage and parenthood by being a support for them and her husband.

My grandfather would called her, “An angel on earth”, and it’s not hard to believe it. She was unasking and generous. She was selfless. Multiple times I’ve heard that she would ‘find’ an extra last slice of pie, but she was really just giving up her own. She would be the last one to sit down at the table to eat, making sure everyone had enough food or sauce or drink. She’d entertain her grandchildren’s winning streak at cards. And, she would drop anything to help you in a time of need whether you knew it or not.

She knew where to find happiness. It was through her family and friends. Any small gift or even a signed birthday card would bring tears to her eyes. She knew that she was loved and was incredibly grateful for it. She held onto 3^rd grade art projects and homemade cards from her sons and grandchildren, displaying them proudly, as if they were by Picasso or Shakespeare. You felt special and loved.

She continued to keep what was important around her. It’s hard to get such a large family of siblings and cousins, sons and their wives, grandchildren and friends together, but almost every time it happened, it happened at Mary’s house: summer cook outs, homemade doughnuts to celebrate Lent, holidays and birthdays. Throughout her life, she pushed us all together. And what’s more, after being with her, you always felt better; she had brightened your day and the bond you had with each other was strengthened.

Outside of weekly spaghetti dinners and cookouts, she made it a point to connect and spend time with her growing family. Like going to football and baseball games; attending her grandkids’ school plays and sports games; traveling to Italy and Prague; and vacationing in Chincoteague, Wildwood, and the Rivah cabin. She was fun and goofy and up for an adventure.

It’s safe to say, that anyone who has meet or spent any amount of time with Mary knows that she has a smile. It’s a smile I wish I’d inherited. It’s a smile that reminds you of a child’s smile. Joyful. Innocent. Genuine. It’s a smile that consumes my memories of her. A smile that said I’m happy to be here, with you, with my family and my friends. A smile that was proud, but humble.

Mary’s legacy is in her family who loves her dearly. When I think about my grandmom now, I imagine what she would say to us, and how she would say it:

“Everything will be alright”. And she’d put her hand on your shoulder and with a laugh and a big smile, she’d confirm it, “okay?” There was confidence and safety in her words, and you knew that she was right. Somehow, she was always right. She was so entwined in our lives and gave the advice that you hoped for and needed. [She was] an unsettling, awesome feeling of comfort.

Mary is out of our sight, but she is still here. So to all the little children, she would say, “run around outside- I’ll protect you. Go play with each other and never stop having fun.”

To the teenagers she’d remind them that they’re amazing. And she would mean it. She would tell them something, something you didn’t know that she knew. Something that made you feel important and that she believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.

To the young adults, starting their families and new lives, she would tell them not to worry so much. She would worry for you. She will take your fears and your problems and hold them for you.

To her sons, I think she would tell them that she loves them. That they make her proud and happy. That she knows that they’ll be okay because she did her job as a mother. That they were all her favorite.

And she would hold her husband and tell him that they did a good job together.

And to everyone else, her siblings and parents and family and friends- she would thank them, with a sincerity that is rarely felt anymore. She would be grateful for her life. For all the good times and the bad. Because she had more smiles than tears. Because she had made the best out of every situation. Because she was kind to everyone she met. Because she loved what she did and who she was. Because she knew that it’s the things you do and the people you affect in your life that is important.