It's difficult to put into words who my grandma was and what she means to me. I am fortunate to have had her in my life for almost 30 years; a bigger chunk of adulthood than many get with grandparents. But, I didn't know her in the way that one adult knows another. I can't rattle off facts about her or recount specific conversations we had, and I can't say the last time she had a conversation with me, Brenna, her granddaughter, instead of me, a nice young woman in her kitchen.

I do, however, know what it feels like to be embraced by her. To sit on a cushioned stool at her kitchen counter, “patiently” awaiting chocolate chip pancakes — golden retrievers at my feet, “patiently” awaiting inevitable crumbs. To have access to a 9-acre nature playground, with the freedom to roam and explore, and the safety to run back inside to remedy scraped knees, splinters, hurt feelings, or a hankering for SpaghettiOs™. To want to check the mailbox, exclusively at the end of November, knowing I'd find a birthday card from her and grandpa. 

I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a sassy eyebrow raise, the receiving end of an “alright…mmmbye-bye” phone call sign-off, the receiving end of hospitality that was so engrained, dementia couldn't touch it — “can i get you something to drink?” was muscle memory developed over decades of taking care of the people around her. 

I know what it feels like to have a front row seat to an example of what love and partnership can look like after 55, 60, 65 years. To inherit the tacit understanding that family is not dictated by the confines of genetics. To witness and experience the heartache that is the unavoidable byproduct of knowing what it feels like to be loved by someone like Sue.

There's a popular quote attributed to Maya Angelou that says, “...people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” I know that to be true now more than ever.  <3

I have some fond memories of time spent with Auntie Sue and your whole family, and it is crazy how time gets away from us and how so many of those memories fade. I am thankful for the memories of the summers I got to spend visiting and those times going to the river and taking Auntie Babs boat to our campsite. Going a little ways back, I can remember one time in the van on the way to the river, us kids in the floor boards in the dark, none of us wearing seatbelts(simpler better times), and for some reason maybe a dream maybe not but I seem to remember a rattlesnake was hit. When we got stopped someone told us not to touch the tires on the van.

I remember talking with her more recently and I regret not asking her to tell me stories about my dad, but we did talk about my kids and granddaughters. She was happy for me, for my family. I think the last time I talked with her was maybe about 2 years ago, she said it was her turn to call next time, and I guess time got away from me, I had intended to call her after our 3rd grandchild, a grandson was born last April.

Wiping away the tears from my eyes, I hope my dad and mom were there in heaven to greet her. I have a tough time putting my words on paper or in this case on a screen, but know that I am deeply sorry that Auntie Sue has passed, and I pray for your comfort.

Mom life without you is so real. You kept us together and was our rock. It's hard living life without you physically here . But your presence is felt everyday . May you rest with the angels until we meet again . 
Love your daughter
Kim. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

OBITUARY

Sue Quenon Willson

November 18, 1937 – May 14, 2025

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