the matriarch.
an open letter to my grandmother: ruby jackson.
Ruby Jackson (July 5, 1936 - December 29, 2022)
on Thursday, December 29, 2022, i lost my maternal grandmother. while i was aware that her health had been declining, i didn’t realize it was declining so rapidly. my mom called me, stating she was on the way to the hospital because my grandmother was having some breathing complications. i immediately called my aunt (at 2:58pm ET), who I knew often visited with my grandmother (and for some years was her primary caretaker), only to find out that my grandmother had just passed. she was declared as deceased at 2:58pm. my angel; our angel.
there is no way to prepare for this type of news. my grandmother is the first i’ve ever lost with whom i was very close. as far as emotions are concerned, this was uncharted territory. it still is. it will continue to be that way for a while.
i immediately thought of the version of my grandmother i’d grown to love, cherish, and appreciate. the vivacious, sassy, witty, hilarious, and lively version of her. the grandmother who often accompanied my mom and i on our Saturday visits to the local mall when i was a child. “look, but don’t touch” she’d declare no sooner than we crossed the threshold of a given store.
the grandmother that insisted i play scrabble with her so she could beat my tail (only sometimes, not all of the time). the grandmother who, for as long as physically possible, would host the family for thanksgiving and christmas dinner. the queen of north capitol street (DC)—uptown’s finest.
the grandmother who was so convicted about her beliefs and position on any given topic, that she said what she meant and meant what she said. on purpose. her mind was just as sharp as her wit—even until her last days.
and even as i reflected on this version of my grandmother, i became overwhelmed with emotion as i not only considered how long she was blessed to walk this earth, but also how much she endured—often sacrificing her wants, needs, and happiness for the sake of prioritizing the needs of others.
over the course of my maturation into womanhood, i often wondered how i was so naturally resilient (i don’t like referring to myself as strong), willful, determined, and how steadfast i can be when it comes to navigating this life. i’m humble enough to know that this type of character, while it can be intrinsic, is almost always inherited. some years ago, while reflecting on this inheritance, the obvious became clear: i’ve got it honest. i am, without a doubt, ruby’s granddaughter.
i come from a family full of determined and courageous women, who even when faced with odds they beat them—and they did/do so gracefully. no, my grandmother wasn’t an accomplished businessowner. she didn’t attain multiple degrees (“i didn’t go to school, but for two days” she’d say jokingly). but what she embodied and passed down to all of us will transcend generations.
even with a broken heart, my grandmother’s spirit remained unbroken. she could have given up and thrown in the towel, but her humor and natural zeal sustained her, my mom, and her six siblings during some of the most harrowing times.
over the years, i’d call and check in:
grandma: hey aminata, how are you?
me: i’m good, grandma…how about you?
grandma: same ol’ stew warmed over…
the women in my family will talk your head off if you let them (lol), but grandma? she kept it short and sweet. she’d tell a few jokes, reminisce a little, and would bid you farewell. “toot toot” she’d say, right before disconnecting the call. i realized that my grandmother truly valued connection, whatever that looked or felt like to her in that moment. it’s the same type of connection that will keep the family tethered, no matter how disconnected we might be in our opinions or decisions.
to my grandmother: i love you so much. i told you every time i had a chance. i was told that you left us peacefully. you deserve that. you deserved so much more from this life. i never told you this, but i am very intentional about living my life on my terms because so many of the women who came before me probably couldn’t imagine such a liberated existence.
over the years, you often told me how proud of us you are. i will continue to live my life in a way that honors you and your legacy.
it is said that to be absent from the body is to be present with the lord. while your body has perished, your spirit will endure.
i hope you’re not cutting up too much up there. and if you are, give ‘em a show.
rest well, ruby. “toot toot.”
psalms 143:5-12 🌹 philippians 4:4-9
