It’s been a rough year for my grandma; she’s dealt with pneumonia, the encroaching loss of her eyesight, memory loss, and profound depression. Even so, she’s a fighter; she will never go gently into that good night, and now she’s got the book to prove it.
I’d been working with her to collect stories about her youth and early adulthood, and I submitted one of the stories to an anthology called Poetica Grandmatica. This book is a collection of stories by and about grandmas in our region, and its sales raise money for charitable organizations. While the contributing writers don’t get paid, they DO get to attend the Author’s Tea. This buffet-style luncheon takes place in one of the co-editors’ beautiful Victorian home, and getting to attend it is worth every word of contributed writing.
Poetica Grandmatica had been an annual publication for the last decade, but this year is the last one, so this Author’s Tea was an especially poignant celebration. Grandma and I had only been part of it for two years (I hadn’t known about it before that), but we were extremely glad that we could attend the last Author’s Tea.
Given everything Grandma had faced this year, I hadn’t been sure that we’d be able to attend at all, but we did indeed. We got our lunch, our books, and the knowledge that we could be part of a legacy.
It was a good thing Grandma raged against the dying of the light.