My grandmother  was a legend. It still feels raw to refer to her in past tense. Mainly because even though she is gone in the physical I know her presence lies within everyone she touched. LaMae Collis did not have a middle name. But you would find that she was not lacking in identity nor character. You see, I’ve lived with my grandmother for the most important parts of my life. She has been through every pivotal moment, highs and lows. Imagining a life without her was not in the plans. I thought I’d have a grandchild to show her. A grandchild for her to nurse, cuddle, swaddle. I wanted my child to have what I had in her. I thought she had more time.

Though I selfishly wanted more, I know my grandmother lived a full ass life. Full, you hear me? She had stories for days growing up in different boroughs around New York City. From staged sit ins, to bar fights, her experiences truly ran the spectrum. I loved seeing my mother curl her hair, getting her ready for a night on the town at her favorite Bed Stuy (pre-gentrification) watering hole on Nostrand Avenue.  She’d come back in the house, sneaking into my room tucking the blankets around my feet. She was a true nurturer at heart. She always wanted her loved ones taken care, often in the form of a hot meal. She would wake you out of your sleep with food. It was her way of saying I love you. When my mother first started at NYC Corrections, she worked the wheel, working shifts of all hours, oftentimes 16 hours a day. My grandmother would wake her up and feed my mother half asleep. She’d even bring dessert, my mother taking two oreos from her, with her eyes still closed. She was your biggest fan, your biggest advocate. If you needed her to fake an emergency to get out of work, she’d call your job. If you needed her to navigate the road map of social and public services, she was your girl. She told you where to go and who to call. She initiated the process for my sisters and I to receive our working papers at 15 years old. She taught us how to utilize every resource available to us. When I was accused of theft during my brief retail stint working at Century 21, she called the manager to tell them off. She was more upset than I was. It felt good to have someone like that in your corner. Someone ready to fight for your honor and respect at all times.

This treatment wasn’t just reserved for family. It was for friends too. Often counseling my friends on how to proceed with difficult situations in their lives. Whipping up meals and snacks at the drop of a dime. She really couldn’t help herself. This was her love language, taking care of people.

My grandmother also taught me about self esteem, life, finances….men. My grandmother married what would be considered now as young and had three children. She has always admired my ability to live life, traveling the world and fostering new experiences. She idolized my independence. She often said ‘that is what you are supposed to be doing’. As a young girl she warned me to not ever get smitten by a man’s compliments on my looks or appearance. “You know what you looked like when you walked out of the house” she’d say. I held that with me. I admired her feistiness. Unlike some others, my sisters and I didn’t grow up learning how to attract and keep a man. We were taught how to maintain and take care of ourselves first and foremost. My grandmother is the one who nurtured my love for reading. I’ve had a library card for as long as I can remember. We’d walk to the library on Nostrand Avenue and I joined the early readers book club. I read all the stories I could get my hands on. I also racked up some library debt on her card (and mine, and my mother’s,). When I was elementary aged, my grandmother had her own daycare business. It seemed so fitting for her, taking care of children.

Now don’t get me wrong there was a LOT of estrogen in that house. Living in a female dominated house certainly is not without flaws or conflict. My grandmother knew how to wake up on “ten”. I never understood it honestly. I always wondered if she regularly decided to wake up and be in a mood. But this was my grandmother. She was a beautiful, loving, complex woman. A woman of character, dignity and a soft heart of gold. Even in what unbeknownst to us would be her final days she was up cooking, packing Thanksgiving plates, for family and friends who couldn’t visit this year due to COVID.

I’ve shared some of my favorite videos and pictures with you. From my cousin Dominique’s birthday in 2017, my grandmother lip singing and dancing listening to Cardi-B. That was my grandma, super down to earth and a dancer at heart. She had zero qualms about attempting to sing songs she did not know the lyrics to. It could be the first time she heard the song, it didn’t matter.

She loved to see us all dance and enjoy ourselves. My grandmother hated flying. So I was shocked but grateful when we finally convinced her to go on a family cruise out of Baltimore in 2019. It was a monumental year for Birthdays. She was turning 80, her sister was turning 70 and my aunt had turned 50 that year. I’ll forever cherish the images of her dancing with the waiters, staying up late making new friends, and really enjoying spending quality time with her sisters. It was truly special and something I never imagined her agreeing to. But, she did. It’s like god knew.

I’ll miss the matriarch of this family tremendous. I’m missing her already. I love you, Grandma.