Little Treasures Everywhere

When I was a teenager, my grandparents were set to move out of their condo and into assisted living. My immediate family and I made a weekend trip to help them in cleaning out their condo and packing up their belongings for the move. At some point in this process, I remember my Grandma Marilyn saying, “there are little treasures everywhere, if you take the time to look.”

Now, I do need to provide a bit of context: she said this while puttering around (as she was known to do) looking for loose odds and ends (beads, pens, and old lady necklaces) and, in the kitchen, she had a “junk drawer” (one of many in the kitchen) which, if I remember right, contained something in the ballpark of three rubber bands, a pad of post-it notes, and a single folded sock. Bless her heart.

But peeling back the layers of an aging mind and the residue from growing up during the Great Depression, for whatever reason, those words have since stuck with me: “There are little treasures everywhere, if you take the time to look.”

Grandma Marilyn passed away late in the evening on Sunday, February 16th, 2025.

She was 93 years young. Some people age and they become holistically old. Not Grandma Marilyn. Her body was old and her mind, for lack of a better description, oscillated between reality and fantasy.

But oh! what a young spirit! Grandma Marilyn had a childlike playfulness to her. She was always cracking jokes (with a healthy dose of cracking wise, mind you) and would be the first to laugh at herself. The amount of off-hand one-liners she said over the years are too numerous to remember all of them. (A favorite of mine: circa 2019, while playing dice and she was on a lucky streak, she exclaimed with great fervor, “I’m one hot mama!”)

“There are little treasures everywhere, if you take the time to look.”

Grandma Marilyn was a sentimental gal. Many things were special to her, whether it was a little pretty pebble or a fuzzy blanket she was gifted or a picture of her granddog - all of it was special and she would get so much joy out of the little things in life.

My Grandpa Ed - her husband - passed away in 2015. When my family learned that his end was near, we went to the hospital to visit him and to be with family. My sister and I were, of course, teary-eyed and upset. While we were all out in the hallway, Grandma Marilyn, eyes dry, wrapped her arms around my sister and I and took us aside. With the comfort only an experienced mother and grandmother can provide, she told us, “that’s the funny thing about life: no one gets out alive.”

I was baffled. She was never a crier - at least, not around me - but how could she be so accepting of the situation, to not even shed a tear in that moment?

10 years later, I have a better understanding of that moment. Grandma Marilyn was using her experience as a mother and her wisdom as a grandmother to not only comfort my sister and I, but to set an example of bravery, of courage, of grace, and of love. Though it was a sad situation, I’m thankful for that moment.

When I learned that Grandma Marilyn’s end was near and I was staring down the barrel of grief, I remembered that moment from nearly 10 years prior and I realized I had an important choice to make: I could either allow the sorrow to consume me for who knows how long, or I could face the grief confidently from a place of joy and gratitude.

While I did give myself the grace to steep in sorrow for several days, I ultimately chose the latter. My joy is in the thought that she is no longer suffering in mind or body and has moved on to whatever comes next. My gratitude is in not only having known her, but in having her as my grandma and all of the wonderful gifts she has given me.

I have music because of Grandma Marilyn. I was about five or six years old when she taught me “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” on the piano, by rote. That unlocked my ability to learn and play music by ear, leading me to eventually earn my masters degree in music composition. A lifetime gift for which I am forever grateful.

In embracing the grief, I’ve also unearthed many memories of Grandma Marilyn. They are all little treasures of which I'm glad to have taken the time to remember. And, in thinking about all of my memories of her as a whole, I realized something both strange and wonderful: in my 30 years of life, the only unhappy memory I have of her is her passing. She's present in unhappy memories, sure, but none of those are about her nor were they caused by her.

That, in my opinion, speaks volumes about who she was. Grandma Marilyn was not perfect. She had her faults just as we all do. But she was certainly, confidently, wholeheartedly a gift to the world.

One of my favorite pictures.

Humor. Spunk. Laughter. Humility. Grace. Faith. Bravery. Kindness. Compassion. Creativity. Playfulness. Joy. Love.

Grandma Marilyn was the embodiment of those traits, and more.

We would all do well to take a page out of her book: to breathe, set aside the serious, and pick up the playful (for at least a little while); to be brave, even in the midst of great fear and sorrow; to remove our ego and allow room for humility; to slow down and take time to stop and smell the roses; to embrace joy, kindness, compassion, and love.

“There are little treasures everywhere, if you take the time to look.”

Grandma Marilyn wasn’t a little treasure - she was a grand treasure. And I didn’t even have to look for her.