When writing, one of the most delicate things you can write about is faith. For fantasy writers like myself there’s a bit of a loophole. We can make up whatever system of belief that fits the story. But for those who take on the task of writing about someone’s faith, it is important to tread carefully. Religion is a deeply personal thing that can provide the foundation for someone’s worldview. Or it can be an Easter and Christmas type of thing.
When my mom died in 2006 I lost touch with religion for many years. Only recently have I started to find my way back to any form of faith. I take comfort in the words of Pope Francis who expressed his belief that all good people, regardless of their faith, go to heaven. I believe that there is something more than what we can see. A power of some sort that flows through and around us.
More to the point, I believe there is an After. A place we go when we die.
The reason for this very out of character post is because on May 18th I lost my Tata (grandmother). I wish I could say we lost her in the same way that we once lost my Sidi (grandfather) for 30 minutes in a Super Target, but that is not the case.
At the age of 89, succeeded by her two sons, daughter in law, eight grandchildren, and a great grandchild, Rose Marie Khoury passed peacefully in her sleep.
I was fortunate enough to spend a great deal of time with her these past few years and came to know her, not just as a grandmother, but as a friend. She was a well-traveled, highly intelligent woman with a quick wit and a sharp tongue. Tata often prayed on my behalf to her favorite saint, St. Anthony, to find me a job I liked. St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost things, worked overtime on her behalf regarding everything from real estate to lost glasses.
‘Between you, me, and God’ was one of her favorite ways to start a sentence before she dished the latest gossip. This fun-loving, vibrant woman held a big place in my heart and she will be sorely missed.
If you knew Tata, I would love a comment below with your favorite memory of her.
My favorite memory of your grandmother was sitting on the porch with Jim, trading family stories on a warm summer day. She was so proud of you and your sister, and happy for your dad’s recent marriage to Annie. She made such an impression on us that day, as it was the first time we really got to know her. You told us last week about how much you loved her, and I am certain that you held a special place in her heart too. We are so sorry for your loss, Emma.