| Today would have been my grandmother’s 108th birthday. |
| She lived to be 99, which somehow still does not feel like enough time for a woman who seemed larger than time itself. She was filled with vinegar and love, the kind of woman who could give you a look sharp enough to straighten your spine and, in the very next breath, make you feel safer than anywhere else in the world. She was strong without needing to announce it, tender without ever being fragile, and unforgettable in all the best ways. She loved simple joys, like having her hair and nails done at the beauty salon. She loved a cold beer with a splash of salt. She loved playing cards right up until her last days, and she played to win. Fierce does not even begin to cover it. Even with macular degeneration, hearing loss, and dementia, her spirit never lost its steadiness. Her personality remained calm. Her presence remained her own. And at the card table, she was still very much herself. She loved her five children, her grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren with a fullness that could be felt in the room. When she held a baby, something lit up in her that words barely touch. The joy in her eye was magical, soft, bright, and completely pure. She made people feel like they belonged, like family was not just something you were born into, but something you showed up for again and again. She and I were very close, and I carry her with me every day.I know she is looking down on me and cheering me on, even if the world I work in would have seemed completely foreign to her. She would not have understood the tech world I now teach my students. She would not have understood the smart glasses I help people learn to use. She would not have understood the hearing loop systems that make spaces more accessible for people who are hard of hearing. And she certainly would not have wanted to learn braille, not because she lacked intelligence, but because her education was so limited, and that was a quiet pain she carried privately. |
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| But she understood people. She understood dignity. She understood what it meant to adapt. She understood how much it matters to feel included, capable, and connected, especially when the world starts making things harder. Cards, for her, were more than a game. They were her pastime, her entertainment, her challenge, and in many ways, her version of reading books. They were how she gathered people around a table. They were how she kept her mind engaged. They were how she built memories without ever calling it that. She taught me to be a fierce player too. These days, I use that fierceness differently. I use it in business. I use it in leadership. I use it to grow UR Community Cares across Connecticut so we can reach more people, especially older adults and people living with the kinds of challenges she knew firsthand. In many ways, this work was founded as an homage to her. Not only to the woman she was, but to the millions of people like her: proud, resilient, loving, complicated, funny, determined, and deserving of support that honors their humanity. UR Community Cares exists because people matter. Because aging should not mean isolation. Because vision loss, hearing loss, memory loss, or mobility challenges should not erase joy, independence, or belonging. Because the people who built our families and communities deserve to be met with patience, creativity, and care. My grandmother may not have understood the tools. But she would have understood the heart behind them. And maybe that is the whole point. This work is not really about technology. It is about helping someone hear the conversation again. Helping someone stay connected. Helping someone keep learning. Helping someone feel less alone. It is about preserving dignity in practical ways. It is about making sure more people can keep participating in life, in family, and in community for as long as possible. That is her legacy in my life. So today, on what would have been her 108th birthday, I am thinking of her at the beauty salon, with polished nails, a cold beer nearby, a deck of cards in hand, and that calm strength that could hold a whole family together. I am thinking of the way she loved us. And I am thinking how lucky I am that she was mine. |
| Happy Birthday, Meme. UR Community Cares carries a little bit of your spirit every single day. Michelle Puzzo, UR Granddaughter info@urcommunitycares.org www.urcommunitycares.org 860-430-4557 |
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