Ode to Grandmom Rose

Written by Stephen Sherman

    I never knew a woman quite like Rose Stanley. I say this not because she was my
  grandmother but because it is the plain truth. She gave me a sense of who I was
when I was growing up in northeast Philadelphia. "Grandmom", as she was known
            to me, still lived on 58th street in West Philadelphia but she didn't let that stop her
           from hopping a train and a few buses to spend time with her children and her
          grandchildren. I will always remember her coming up the street with a shopping bag
         in each hand. Together, those bags probably weighed more than she did. But she was
         strong as an ox so it didn't matter. She always greeted you with a smile and a hug and
        a kiss no matter how hot, how tired she was. She lit up your day; she lit up your world.
        She had caught a sale, she would say and boy was it her lucky day. She would have
       several new outfits - some that fit her - some that didn't. It didn't matter. She liked them -
       they were on sale.

       Rose spent most of her adult life living in times of great prosperity in this nation - a
       stark contrast to the times she knew growing up during the depression. She lived in
      a society which measures a man by how much money he has, the size of his house, the
       fancy car that he drives. Rose had none of these things. Yet, I never once heard her
     complain of her lot in life - never once heard her regret it. I believe she measured her
      wealth differently. Her wealth was her family and the people she surrounded her life with.
    Rose was always with her family. And she was always there for her family. Whether it was
    helping my mom make costumes for the 4th of July parade or helping Rosie scrape and paper
    her house on Oakland St. She was quick to roll up her sleeves and get right to it. She was the
    first to loan you the money she had and sometimes it was money she didn't have. She didn't
    care. You needed it more than her and that's all that mattered. She was there for all of us at
     one time or another.

    Affectionately known as "Nanna" to Jay and Kris she was always over their house. Whether it
     was babysitting on Oakland St. or just hanging out with her daughter and grandkids in the
    house they live in today, she was "there for you." Jimmy and Michael and Donna and Debbie,
    how she loved you kids so. I know this because she told me so, so many times as I'm sure she
    told you. Rose wasn't shy about sharing her love. And she loved all her brothers and sisters.
    She loved you Jimmy and Syl and Bernie, and she loved you Elizabeth and Catherine and Jane.
     I know because she told me so.

    One of her favorite pictures was Mimi's wedding picture because all of the grandkids were in it.
     All 14 of us. That was her favorite part about that picture. It was all of us together. It was what
     she was about. And that was being together. It was all that mattered to her.

     She never missed the reunion, not if she could help it. She even made it last year in that
    sweltering heat. She didn't care. It was a chance to spend time with her family.

     Affectionately known to so many at the family picnics as "Aunt Rose" she took the time and the
    effort to spend time with everyone. She knew your name and your spouses name and your kids
     names and she asked you how you were doing with that problem you'd had the last time she
    talked to you. You got the feeling she truly cared because, she truly did. And she knew everybody
    at those picnics. If she didn't she make it her business to get to know you. She didn't care who
    you were - a son, a daughter, a grandchild, a great-grandchild, a niece, a nephew. You were
    hers: you, a part of her; she, a part of you. She made ya feel warm all over. She was glad to see
    you. You'd miss her till you saw her again. She was proud of you - each and every one of us and
    all of us together. She'd always tell you so. She'd say, "You see so-and-so over there. He just got
    a real good job with such-and-such. He's real important over there." You could see her pride in
    all her family members. She'd say, "Hey this is my grandson, Kevin, he just got honors." She
    knew all the details of so many peoples lives. I don't know how she kept it all straight.

    She always kneow when something was bothering you and she'd ask you what was wrong. And
    she'd sit there and she'd tell you in a gentle loving way of how she'd had a problem like that
    once and this is what she did. She'd tell you to pray to God and God would help you. And she'd
    tell you a story of how she had prayed to God and how she didn't ever think that God would help
    her but that God never let her down, never disappointed her. She didn't tell you what you should
    do she'd just try to advise you and try to remind you what was truly important in life and she'd hug
    you and tell you not to worry and that everything was gonna be alright. And somehow you knew no
    matter how upset you were that deep down inside she was right.

    Grandmom Rose you were there so many times for so many people I'm truly sorry I could not be
    there for you in your hour of need for I could not bare to see you in all your helplessness. I'll
    always remember you. You gave us a sense of who we were - and of where we came from - and
    who we should be. You taught us how to love and how to live. You inspired us. You gave our lives
    meaning and we will all miss you very much but together we will walk a little stronger, stand a
    little taller knowing that came from you.