i will find her every time
today would’ve been my nana’s 96th birthday.
she passed in 2017 at 87-years-old. she immigrated to canada from spain with my grandpa in her twenties and had five children in timmins, ontario, later moving to georgetown, where she took her last breaths.
losing her was monumental for me. hers was the first death i experienced of someone i interacted with regularly. though she had eight grandchildren, i was her shadow. following her around the kitchen, helping stir the gravy, adding more salt (always more salt), laughing at her jokes, listening to her stories, talking to her about her shows.
she was best friends with my oma–my other grandma–even though my parents had been divorced for years. incredible, honestly. when they were less mobile, i would bring them shrimp from the snack table at family gatherings.
she was tiny, less than five feet tall, had a thick spanish accent and long natural nails always painted mauve. she loved going to bingo, the casino, lunch dates with oma, taking care of her family. the last few years of her life were riddled with hospital visits, but she consistently left the nurses and doctors smiling. she hugged everyone she met.
my nana’s passing inspired me to finally finish and publish my first book in 2018. the last section, perspective, is filled with poems about her.
i wrote them while sitting at her bedside in the hospital. helping her put vaseline on her nose because it was dried out from the oxygen tubes. i bought her puffs plus with lotion and she worried about how expensive it was.
aside from our love of tv and shrimp, that’s one thing my nana and i had in common–our worry. she never called it anxiety, though for me, that’s what i came to know it as. nana was always worrying about everyone in our family, if the turkey came out right, why her children and grandchildren had problems she couldn’t fix.
last night, on the eve of her 96th birthday, i lit a candle for her. sang happy birthday. and i talked to her about my life right now, the uncertainty, the worry. i thanked her for being such a blessing and had a moment of gratitude for how rare she was, how lucky i was to have a grandma like her.
i asked her for help, for advice, for a sign today to give me reassurance as i currently feel as though i’m standing on shaky ground. like i’ve been waiting for something for a while now. that even though i keep going, i don’t know what’s next.
this morning, when i opened instagram, the first thing i saw was one of my favourite mary oliver poems, posted today. it’s called I Worried.
i am a fairly spiritual person so i wasn’t shocked, but it still is kind of amazing how energy works. a poem telling me not to worry on the morning of nana’s 96th birthday. after i talked to her last night about our shared worry.
and so today, i will worry less.
i’ll think of her when i make spaghetti bolognese for dinner tonight (her favourite).
whenever i do puzzles (a hobby of hers that i picked up in the last few years).
when i joke that my dog, beatrice, is her reincarnated (nana was a dog lover–she had a husky, a german shepherd and a st. bernard all at the same time, and beatrice was born in 2018 and pretty much hugs everyone she meets so…it’s plausible).
when i start knitting lessons in just over a week (she was a prolific knitter and seamstress).
and eventually, when i catch myself worrying again, i will look for her, and i will find her every time.




thank you for reading. here are a few ways to support this free letter:
in dialogue: the life of a neurodivergent working writer
thursday, february 12 | 9 pm ET/6 pm PT
i’ll be facilitating an online workshop this week with the heart of it: a dialogue for neurodivergent working writers. we’ll chat strategies and resources that help us do this full-time, but mostly we’ll commiserate and make space for each other’s stories. more info here.
i just released four new 8 x10” prints for love in all its forms. you can find them here.
my six poetry books are available all over the internet (and in some book stores). signed copies of select books are available on pitter patter shop, too. you can find them here.





I’m not crying, you’re crying! I had a nana too and she sounded just like yours, except mine was German and almost six feet tall. Thank you for sharing this with us - this gave me a good cry and reminded me of mine. So lovely. Thank you 🥹🩷
This was a beautiful tribute to a beautiful lady!