13. My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry

This review is about a book. A good book. No, a great book. But, it's also about my grandmother. And, if you're lucky, your grandmother, too.

That's the first sentence of this book that cracked my heart open wide. And, that picture? That's my grandmother's kitchen. The house she lived in for decades, the house in which she raised my mom and her siblings and hosted countless family dinners - empty last summer, for the first time. I stood in that kitchen that held so many memories and, for the first time, it felt impossibly small. How did they raise six kids here? How did I never notice that those walls were mint green?

She never wanted to leave that kitchen or that home. But, as it became harder to remember the simple things in her life, it was increasingly unsafe for her to live alone. So, my mom took me through the house one last time before putting it up for sale. And, at 38 years old, one of the cornerstones of my childhood was gone.

It will always smell like orange peels and coffee to me. And, homemade cinnamon rolls. 

So, that's how this book started for me. Heart wide open, tears on my cheeks. A story about a little girl and her grandmother. 

Elsa's not a regular kid. She's wise beyond her years. She has no friends her age. Her best friend is her grandmother, who's anything but typical herself. She's the kind of grandmother who sneaks beer into her hospital bed inside hollowed-out encyclopedias and makes up imaginary worlds and fairy tales so that her granddaughter won't be afraid to sleep alone. It's not until her grandmother dies that Elsa realized every one of those fairy tales was preparing her for life on her own.

Those tales come to life as Elsa is asked to deliver letters to people in her grandmother's life. Letters, which are all versions of apology. And, as Elsa presents them, she pieces together her grandmother's extraordinary life. And, begins to understand that the world around her that seemed so uncertain is really made up of people closely connected, with her grandmother as the glue.

This is the second book I've read this year by Fredrik Backman. Once again, it's the character development that sets him apart. Every character is flawed and every one of them is perfect. The flat in which they live becomes larger than life, too, because of the amazing people (and creatures) that live inside its walls.

It sounds sappy as I write it here. It's not. really. It's about family - those who are related by blood and those who come together by circumstance. There's mystery. There's intrigue. There's a little violence for good measure. The lessons Elsa's grandmother left her through their secret, imaginary world help Elsa understand the motivations of the people around her.

One of those lessons that will stay with me: "Not all monsters were monsters from the beginning. Some monsters were born out of sorrow,"

The co-worker who lent me this book warned me that it would crawl inside me and take up residency. She said I would want to carry the book around like a baby, protecting it. That I would race to finish, then hope it never ends. She nailed it.

That's my grandma, by the way. She's 99 now. Physically strong, even though she struggles to remember. She's not sure about things that happened 15 minutes ago, but she always remembers her kids and grandkids. She can tell you in amazing detail about her childhood. She's always been one of the strongest people I know. When she was barely a teenager, her mother went back home to Ireland, got sick and never came home. My grandmother was left to help raise her siblings. When she was in her 20's, she left her home in Montana and moved, by herself, to Washington, D.C. You didn't do that back then. You stayed in your father's home until you got married, then you moved into his home and built your life. My grandmother knew there was more of the world she wanted to see. Then, she came home, had six kids and an adoring load of grandkids (pictured below, grandma in the center.) I could not have asked for a more perfect grandmother. 

We don't always see and understand that our grandparents were people before they were grandparents. But, as Elsa learns, the more we learn their history, the more we understand our own.

I finished this book yesterday while on a road trip with my family. While a few tears snuck out in the waning chapters, the floodgates opened when I closed the book. I cried for a good half hour. Not because it was sad, necessarily, but because everything was going to be okay. Our grandmothers won't be around forever. But, if we're lucky, those memories always will be. Those lessons. 

That smell. 

Maybe I'm so deeply touched because of exactly where I am right now. The reality that my grandmother is slipping away hits me every day. But, I really learned from this book that it's okay to let go. And, that she'll still be with me when she's gone.