Dear Grandma,

Thank you for raising me into the young man I am today. Because of you, my sister and I were always greeted at the bus stop after-school with a smile. It didn’t matter that both of our parents were working because we had you to look after us. Because of you, no birthday went unnoticed and without a chipper phone call and beautiful performance of “Happy Birthday.” It didn’t matter that you had 10 other grandchildren. You never played favorites, yet you somehow managed to make all of us feel special.

You helped me and my sister with our homework, but always went beyond what we were learning in school. Spelling bees and geography quizzes became the norm after schoolwork was completed. You would always challenge us with difficult words and places, making learning fun and emphasizing the need to see, experience, and love the world out there. In the later years, I enjoyed reading the same book alongside you and having intellectual chats over afternoon tea. Crossword puzzles were our favorite, as you’d hand the New York Times Sunday crossword over to me to fill in the gaps. I am glad that we could bond over our love for reading and knowledge. Historical fiction, particularly World War II, was your favorite. After all, you saw it all and lived to tell the tale.

You reminded us that we should be proud of who we are. No Dwelle is a quitter. As descendants of the kings of Ireland and early English colonists, you underscored how we stem from old lines, ones who have upheld tradition while shaping the future. We are strong and hearty. We survived the Armenian genocide. Your father made the incredible journey to America as a teenager, able to escape the war and violence and begin anew. Every time we didn’t finish our dinner, you would remind us of the famine, the struggle, the oppression. I’d always take another bite.

You showed us the satisfaction of helping people. You helped out in my second-grade classroom just because you wanted to see me and my classmates succeed. You dedicated over a decade of your life to Norwalk Hospital, greeting new moms with complementary picture frames. You made sure to bring both of us into the volunteer program. Without you, I’d never have had the chance to take inventory in the stock-room, to hear old stories from geriatrics that I’d push in wheelchairs, to watch the tender interactions between parents and brand-new babies. I’d never realize the importance of community service in high school – my mission trips to Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. would never have had the gas to get that far, my tutoring would never have helped other students succeed. I certainly would not be leading the Brown SAT Prep program, as I am today.

You exemplified that humor can heal all wounds. You praised wit and flashed toothy grins. You swatted away nonsense with a flick of the wrist. “Can you make a cherry pie? Neither can I”, you’d continuously chide, though I always knew that you could certainly make a cherry pie (remember when we made a peach pie?). “No mon, no fun”, you’d harp on long summer afternoons when we were bored with nothing to do. Yet, we certainly didn’t need money to have fun. You were always enough entertainment. You, with your eyeglasses perched on the tip of your nose, your perfectly-coiffed hair, and your face aglow.

You taught us what it means to love. To feel loved. To love you back. To love our parents. To love all of our relatives. To love our friends. To love our enemies. To love the smell of freshly-mown grass. To love the sound of birds chirping. To love the taste of gooey chocolate chip cookies. I’m sorry that I wasn’t always around to see you, but you made coming home from Brown worth the trip every time. I’ll never forget how, even at the end, amidst all of the confusion, you anxiously called for “the kids” – not your own, but me and my sister. You were worried that no one had greeted us at the bus stop. We are safe, Grandma.

I’ll never forget our last goodbye…the feel of your hand in mine, the warmth of our family gathering around your bedside, telling you to “Take it easy. Breathe.” The single tear you shed that carried with it all the love in the world.

You instilled in us a joy for the little things in life. A garden full of fragrant flowers. A cool breeze at the beach. The satisfying crunch of a Klondike bar. The sweet sip of iced tea in summer. You truly made the most out of every day.

“Take it easy. Breathe.”

I will, Grandma. I hope you are, too.