Grandma Campbell

As a kid I walked to elementary school with my best friend every day. Winter temperatures often plummeted below freezing but it only snowed once every five years or so. Instead of finding the satisfying layer of snow that we would dream of, Naomi and I were instead surrounded by sparkling frost-covered roofs, cars and lawns. Just looking around made my teeth chatter. We would get to school and carefully wipe down the monkey bars before braving the wet structure. If you asked me on any one of those morning I would tell you I'd prefer to be hot than cold. It was a decision I made early in my life and stuck to like glue. I think this preference comes from my dad's side of the family. My mom, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. I find that hilarious because her mom was the complete opposite of her. Grandma Campbell loved the sun and sought out climates hotter than even I could handle. Her sunny disposition, magnetic personality and adventurous nature blended in perfectly wherever she went.

When I was growing up Grandma lived a few hours south in an upscale south Bay Area town. I loved going down for family visits but the best thing was when she'd visit us after a long trip abroad. She'd pull up to our house and dig around in her trunk for a huge bag of souvenirs she'd bought for us. I oohed and aahed at every item, puzzling at their origins. I have no doubt that my grandma gave me the travel bug. She was a true wanderer and thanks to an incredible work ethic, impressive career and comfortable retirement she was able to travel anywhere she could dream of. It never seemed to bother her that she was alone - she just kept doing what she wanted. She was amazing.

In the fall of 1989 I was in Kindergarten. One day I came home from school and was playing in the kitchen with my sister and her best friend. They were pretending to dance all crazy to a song in the radio. Suddenly their movements became very convincing and we felt like the whole room was moving. Then we realized it was actually shaking. The walls felt like they could close in on us and the whole house groaned. The song on the radio was abruptly cut off and the people on the station were shouting that there was an earthquake in San Francisco. We realized what was happening and got under the kitchen table. After a few short minutes the quake ended and we went outside to check on my mom and the day care kids. Everyone was fine as was the house. My grandma, however, had a completely different experience in her Bay Area home. She had barely escaped serious injury when her tall, solid wood entertainment center came crashing down in her path and strewed shards of glass everywhere. Several items in her house were completely destroyed and we knew how lucky she had been to make it out of there physically intact. She had been so emotionally affected by the quake that she decided to promptly move. Next stop: Hurricane Central.

I remember being sad that Grandma was moving to Florida. My attitude changed when my parents explained that if we saved our money very carefully for the next four years, we may be able to afford a trip to visit Grandma and go to Disney World. We did just that and when I was ten I took my first plane ride. The trip was absolutely amazing. We spent the first week on the beaches near North Fort Myers. I had never seen anything like the fine white sand on the beaches. It was like walking on flour. Even better were the treasures hidden in the sand. My grandma spent a lot of time with me looking for shells. My favorite excursion was the time we all went to Shark Tooth Beach (at least that's what she called it) and dug for ancient blackish-gray shark teeth that were hundreds of years old. I bought a post card which identified the teeth of several species of local sharks and tried to match them with those I found. Grandma helped me and my mom grimaced as the plastic bags full of teeth and shells began to pile up in the trunk.

Everything with Grandma was an adventure. One of the funniest experiences of my life was the day we went to Venice Beach. My family had just gotten situated with our towels strategically placed on the white hot sand. We were pulling out sandwiches and Cheetos when we saw the most bizarre sight coming towards us: five women who appeared to be wearing itsy bitsy bikinis. My Grandma's jaw dropped (which is funny because she was wearing a bikini herself) and all of us wondered if one of the women was wearing any clothes at all. By the time they picked a place close to the water they had turned every head in sight. Everyone on the beach wanted to go in for a closer look, but my grandma had a secret weapon: incredibly reflective sunglasses that would prevent anyone from telling what she was looking at. She walked toward the water very calmly, dipped her feet in, turned to face the women, tried to suppress a look of shock, and quickly returned to our camp to report that the women were indeed wearing clothes and that every last one of them was wearing the tiniest thong bikinis imaginable. We laughed maniacally as men passed by the group of women and accidentally dropped things they were carrying, knocked down sandcastles, or fell into holes dug by children. It was the best entertainment we could ask for.

Over the next several years we were delighted when Grandma would come to visit us in California. I'll always remember her busily preparing Thanksgiving dinner at my aunt's house. Her ability to multitask convinced me she must be some kind of magical sorceress. The kitchen was her realm, love was her spell and gravy was her potion. As I grew older we realized we had a lot in common. We were both into make-up, shiny objects, glittery clothing and flashy jewelry. We thoroughly enjoyed making crafts and performing in productions. I loved discovering our similarities and strove to connect with her on a more grown up level, the way I'd never gotten a chance to do with Grandma Cuca. I knew time was precious but I assumed time would be abundant. Grandma Campbell was young and vivacious. Even better, Grandma would soon be moving a little closer to home. She'd had her fill of the Florida hurricanes and was headed for her next place of residence: Sin City. Grandma found her livelihood by starring as an extra in various movies. I was very proud to know that she was making the most of her time in Vegas. Even better, she was a movie star!

Around the same time I was preparing to leave the country to serve a mission in Brazil. I knew that life would continue to go on without me while I was away for 18 months. There was no guarantee that everyone would still be there waiting for me upon my return. It was a risk I was willing to take but maybe that's because I was 21 and didn't know any better. When I arrived in Rio de Janeiro I was grateful to have experienced humidity in Florida or I may have just collapsed from shock. Halfway through my mission I was working in a mountainous region in a city originally founded by German and Swiss settlers. My part of the city was built into a mountainside and everywhere I went I was either climbing up (and wishing my pack would get lighter) or going down hills (and wishing my toes would stop smashing into the fronts of my shoes). Regardless of the physical demands I was very happy. I was surrounded by wonderful people and enjoyed my time there. One week I received an email from my mom saying that my grandma had decided to move to my hometown in the North Bay area. I was excited to know that for the first time in my life she'd be living only 15 minutes away.

One morning our doorbell rang very early. Sister Richey and I used the intercom to ask who was there and the voice identified himself as Elder Miles (he was the leader of the local missionary district - maybe a year younger than me). Sister Richey and I walked downstairs and wondered why on earth the elders would be at our house. When we opened the door and saw the look on their faces I knew something was wrong. Elder Jones looked at Elder Miles and Elder Miles looked right at me. I saw deep sympathy in his eyes. He told me I needed to call President Quatel immediately. We borrowed their telephone card and walked to the pay phone in a nearby parking lot. The city streets were very still in the early morning hours. The deafening silence was broken as I dialed each digit of that fateful call. President answered and I identified myself. He told me my parents had called to inform him that my grandmother had passed away. He said I could call my parents and talk to them for as long as I needed, I just had to walk to the branch president's house first. I indicated that I understood him and hung up the phone. As I stood looking at the three Americans surrounding me in this place so far from home I felt the first tears break the surface. I wanted to be home. I wanted to know what had happened to Grandma. She'd had diabetes for years but was controlling it with medication. I began to fear that she had died in some kind of accident. I couldn't bear the thought of her passing in pain and fear.

Two hours later Sister Richey and I were on our way to President Eleazar's house. We had been there many times before and I knew the route was arduous. Few roads were as steep and windy as the one that led to his house. I couldn't climb fast enough. Thoughts flew through my mind - memories of the Florida beaches, her California home, our holidays together - I was in complete disbelief that there would be no new memories. Up and up we went. The higher we climbed the farther my heart wandered from Brazil. I would have crawled on my hands and knees the entire way if it meant my mom wouldn't be at home crying and my family could be put back together. My grandma was the anchor of the family and without her we would wander like a ship in a storm with no bearing. Waves would crash over us, separate us, make us question what we believed. In the open water we'd find ourselves in darkness waiting for rescue from despair. Would we come out of it as an intact family or as individuals fractured by such an unfair loss of life?

We finally arrived at Eleazar's and I called home. I talked to my mom and with a broken voice she explained what had happened. Grandma had just finished moving to my hometown. My aunt stopped at her place to check on her. She saw that she was sleeping in her bed with an open book in her hand, holding perfectly still. Too still. Despite my aunt's efforts, my grandma never woke up. She had simply gone to bed and slipped out of this mortal existence. Peacefully, painlessly, fearlessly. It was an ideal passing. However, the timing was unbearable. Losing someone so unexpectedly shakes you and makes you question the foundation of everything you know. The safe and comfortable house I had built to protect my heart, mind and beliefs was trembling. The floor was rolling, the walls were moving in, the furniture was tipping over, and everywhere I looked there were paths of broken glass. I could only slide under the kitchen table, put my hands over my head and wait for it to be over, hoping that those left outside my walls would find safety and shelter. I was alone in Brazil to brave the quake, flee the aftershocks, and rebuild what had been damaged. I prayed that my family would be left unscathed.

I feel a tremendous amount of guilt that I couldn't be home to attend the funeral services. My parents sent me a copy of the funeral program, my dad's talk and the eulogy my uncle had given. I sat on my bed and read along. I sang the songs listed there and held my own memorial service out of sight from Sister Richey. I knew the coming years would be very different without my Grandma Campbell but I found a source of solace in the words of one of the hymns sung at her funeral:

The Lord is my Shepherd; no want shall I know.

I feed in green pastures; safefolded I rest.

He leadeth my soul where the still waters flow,

Restores me when wandering, redeems when oppressed,

Restores me when wandering, redeems when oppressed.

Years have passed since I lost my grandma. As the anniversary of her passing approaches I am drawn to thoughts of her. I always knew she had a wandering soul. Maybe she started her last great adventure a little sooner than the rest of us were ready for. I just hope with all my heart that wherever she is now she can feel the sun on her skin, hear waves breaking, walk miles of white sandy beaches and find new treasures in the sand. She's free of life's storms, bodily pain and mortal strife. I just hope she'll still visit home every once in a while.