To My Biggest Fan

I am a writer. I still don’t know if I was born with it or grew into it. I never had a Hollywood-like moment where it all clicked – it was always something that came naturally to me. So when I go through times of trouble, my first thought is always to pick up a pen (or open my laptop) and write it out. 

My grandmother passed this week. She will always be the original Jersey Girl, born and raised in North Jersey, similar to me. She taught me so many lessons about being true to myself and going after what makes me happy.

She also taught me how to weave together a good adventure and a good laugh into a great story. Most recently, when she told me about the time she held a snake after I dug up this photo from the Lanahan archives. 

From a young age, I recognized how she filled her life with art. Visits to my grandparent’s house just down the road would mean a chance to play their grand piano, pluck at her harp, bang on my grandfather’s drums, sketch something from the backyard, or paint a picture of a song I heard on the radio. (Very avant-garde, I know)

My favorite room at my grandma’s house wasn’t actually in her house, it was connected to the garage. I loved her amazing art studio filled with pastels, paintings, and sketches of the difference landscapes she was able to visit throughout her life. I remember looking forward to the special occasions where I could sit by her and try to create something as beautiful as her. I would watch her effortlessly throw colors together on a canvas while listening to the radio hum. 

As my grandparents got older, they decided to move on from cold New Jersey winters and migrate down to Skidaway Island outside Savannah, Georgia. I remember how nervous I was for my dad’s parents to no longer be down the road. A 15-minute drive turned into 15 hours. While they were no longer a short drive away, I started calling my grandma more to check in and provide little updates on my life and see how their lives in Georgia were going. 

Funny enough, that’s where this travel blog started. I had just finalized my plans to study in Ireland for a semester and my family planned a trip to see my grandparents before I shipped off across the Atlantic. I’ll save you the scroll; one of my first posts was about our adventure to Savannah that summer. (I hope my writing has improved since 2017) 

My grandma was one of my biggest fans. She was always the first (sometimes the only one) to comment on my silly little blog posts here. She would call me after posts went live. She would text me her reviews. I will miss getting the email notifications that I received a new comment from her and her post-blog analysis. 

She was an amazing artist. I have the honor of being the subject of one of her paintings. Even after she was diagnosed with cancer, she didn’t let it slow her down. I watched her pick up a piece of charcoal and start sketching my backyard just a few months ago. She taught me how to view the world in brushstrokes and vibrant colors. Half of my motivation for picking up a camera was to get her feedback on my photography. Every time I would send her a photo a small part of me would hope she saw the beauty in it to make it into a painting. 

One of my favorite parts about my brief time in Rochester, New York, was the Lilac Festival. It wasn’t just because of the live music and beer, but because my grandma loved to paint/sketch flowers. The beautiful lilacs were the perfect subject to send along. Below is one of the paintings my grandma did from one of the photos I sent her.   

One of my favorite parts of the day is the sunset. I’m sure if I was a morning person I would say the sunrise, too, but for now, I love the sunset. I have always taken comfort in the changing colors in the sky and the ones that dance along the clouds when the sun goes down. A few years ago during a trip to Georgia, I sat with my family to watch the sunset from the local marina. My uncle reminded me how my grandma says the colors of a sunset don’t end when it sets. You can catch the afterglow of the sun among the clouds when it sinks below the horizon.  

To my biggest fan: I will forever look for you in the afterglow of each sunset I am blessed to see. You meant so much to me and our entire family. I will miss your incredible stories, your laugh, your artwork, and your warmth. I hope Heaven has all the paintbrushes and art supplies you could ever want. I love you. 

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. 

Love, Peggy’s biggest fan.