Down in the valley the valley so low

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow

Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow

Roses love sunshine, violets love dew

Angels in heaven, know i love you

If you don’t love me, love whom you please

Put your arms round me, give my heart ease

Give my heart ease love, give my heart ease

Put your arms round me, give my heart ease

Write me a letter, send it by mail

Send it in care of, the Birmingham Jail

Birmingham Jail love, Birmingham Jail

Send it in care of, the Birmingham Jail

Build me a castle, forty feet high

So I can see her, as she rides by

As she rides by love, as she rides by

So I can see her, as she rides by

Down in the valley, the valley so low

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow 

---

Hi Babies,

Today would have been your great-grandmother Linnea’s 88th birthday. She passed 6 days ago, just missing the mark. She did manage to leave this earth on Dia de los Muertos, which is pretty fucking rad in my opinion! 

Grandma Linnea was the reason I began writing. She wrote and she loved to tell stories, especially about ancestors. She kept generations of family alive through the stories she’d share, and in the way she told them. She could make a story about the most mundane events seem extraordinary. I credit her entirely for my love of storytelling, writing, and honoring my ancestors. 

Grandma Linnea worked diligently at discovering our ancestry and genealogy. Thanks to her, we have a rich tangible lineage record, helping to aid in all the following generations to know who they came from. I’ll never know if my obsession with knowing my ancestors was her work, or if it’s a magic passed down through the bloodline. Regardless, I feel blessed beyond measure that I had the most incredible woman as my grandmother.

I don’t feel so gratified just for the work she did, but more so for the way she made herself the safest place in the world. I was born into chaos and upheaval, and Grandma Linnea was the anchor to my universe. Her presence was a gift in an uncertain experience. Whether by design, or genuine love, my Grandma never allowed me to believe I wasn’t loved. Grandma was the only human who didn’t demand I change who I was and she would look me deep in the eyes and hold my shoulders, and say with the most genuine love and devotion “Be kind to yourself.” There were moments in my life where I was on the edge of death, and her voice would gently play in my head, and I’d feel her hands and smell her, and I would hear her say “Be kind to yourself” and it would be the only thing in the world keeping me from jumping. 

Grandma recognized early on that life was going to be difficult for me, and one thing she did to combat the impact of the chaos, is that she would tell me to write a book. She’s the only human who’s ever said that and meant that it would be the best thing I could do, but that it would be the best thing for others to read. She cared about the fallout, and she never meant it to exploit my scars like most who’ve suggested the same have. 

My desire to write was never about writing something I wanted people to like, it was always about getting the details down before I forgot them, because I forget quickly. I wanted to record details I wanted to know about my ancestors. I wrote diary entries for my grandchildren. I wanted to start this Legacy Project because I wanted you both to have all the information I can possibly provide, in hopes that it will help you find who you are. Now that my parents and all my grandparents are gone, along with more relatives, some of whom died before I could ask the right questions, I’m left with a gaping hole in my identity because I don’t know where I come from. I never wanted that for you, so I’ve designed this project to make sure you never feel what I’ve felt. None of this would have been possible if not for Grandma Linnea believing in me and telling me I was good and deserved good things. 

I chose this song because Grandma Linnea sang it to me on nights that I’d spend at her house. I can smell her room, and see the car lights dance across the lace shadows on the black and floral wallpaper. She’d whisper, sing and caress the palm of my hand, and I’d drift away to sleep. This song represents the most genuine love I knew until I met your Dad and we had you guys. 

Grandma Linnea was an angel on this earth, and I count myself as one of the luckiest humans to have been loved so much by her. The family she created and nurtured includes us, and we’re here because of her. She raised us in a Matriarchal structure, and for that I am eternally thankful. I am the strong woman, wife and mother because she showed me what it meant to be a good human. She loved me when I couldn’t stand to love myself. Grandma Linnea exhibited strength and softness simultaneously in the most effortless manner. She was a queen who commanded her life on her terms, and she modeled what it meant to be in tune with yourself. She normalized mental health and resources, well before it was a societal norm. She encouraged self-awareness and checking in internally. She showed that grief and death didn’t have to be soul-crushing devastating events, but rather a natural phenomenon that each and every human will experience. Most importantly, she lived her belief system, and was the most Christ-like Christian I’ve yet to meet. She modeled true goodness, and loved so intently. 

This week has been raw, but I haven’t expressed my grief outwardly, which probably perturbes people. I think I was truly prepped for this moment my whole life, and I’ve been given permission to grieve all along. Or maybe it hasn’t truly hit. Or the sensitivity I’ve been feeling is the manifestation of my grief. Whatever the reason, I hope it continues to be a slow trickle of moments of sadness, and I’m able to honor my Grandmother’s wishes to be celebrated and to live life as normal. Since losing your grandmother Laura, I’ve realized more and more that the time I have left on this earth is really a blink of time. I had 35 years to know my grandma, and to experience a love that kept me alive in dark times. 

I hope that when your Dad and I die, you will both have been able to process our deaths all along, and you’ll be able to keep going knowing we’ll be together again before you know it. 

Your great-grandmother was an incredible woman, and I pray I do her justice when passing her stories down to you, and for you to pass onto the following generations. 

Love You!

-Meemaw