Welcome back to What Needs Knowing. While the world processes the death of Queen Elizabeth II, my family mourns the passing of a similarly regal, white-haired, dog-loving, 96-year-old. Ann Dewey Kent, my maternal grandmother, passed away with family by her side early Wednesday morning.
Instead of detailing the most recent drama of F1 (Max is unstoppable, Alex Albon lost his appendix, and the next race is in two weeks in Singapore) or telling you about my most recent reading escapade (Carrie Soto is Back was unexpectedly enjoyable and a quick ~300 pages for anyone needing a palette cleanser), I want to use this platform to honor my grandmother and the spirit she represented in my life and the lives of those she loved. May she, finally, be at peace. Her obituary can be found here.
Passing Through the Doorway
Do you know what a dish garden is? If not for the guidance of my grandmother, I might think this referred to a garden with lots of plants potted in small dishes. Not so! My first memories of dish gardens come from summers spent at my grandparent’s lake house in the Adirondacks. Each year, following my arrival from Denver, I would walk hand in hand with Grandmom into the woods behind the cabins and forage for ferns, moss, mushrooms, and maple tree saplings. After returning to the kitchen and acquiring a large, shallow bowl, we would go about constructing a miniature forest from our bounty. Ferns became trees, moss became grass, and small cutouts of mirror became lakes and ponds. Once the scene was set, we’d both examine the box of porcelain figurines that she had collected over the years for this exact activity. Miniature ducks, squirrels, and deer would give life to our forest scene and a small bridge would suggest the presence of tiny, imaginary people taking pleasure in our dish garden’s foliage. It was one part art and one part gardening but entirely creative and celebratory of the beauty in the smalls, delicate things of life. Grandmom’s patient words with me as we built those worlds together became a hallmark of my memory of her.
My grandmother’s life stretched over many periods of history. Born just before the Great Depression and living through World War II, the Cold War, and a global pandemic, she saw many of the same global events as Queen Elizabeth II, although through a decidedly different lens. She wrote back and forth with my grandfather while he served in World War II and after the premature death of her son, Bradley Kent, she dedicated her life to caring for others by helping to pioneer the hospice movement and support families going through the same heartbreak she had experienced.
Her kindness was not only reserved for those experiencing loss. I believe you can find out a lot about a person by how they treat the people serving them, be it caregivers, wait staff, or receptionists. (Please take note of this future suitors, ha!) After she passed, the outpouring of concern, condolences, and kind words from my grandmother’s caregivers was monumental. Even the people who saw her at her very worst, dealing with the hard truths of old age and what that means for your body and mind, saw her kind light shine through the darkness. Don’t get me wrong, she could have a sharp tongue, and you’d know if your actions were not up to her standards. Underneath all of that, though, was an understanding of potential and belief that those around her could, and would, be better if they tried harder.
For those who know me personally, it is no secret that the last two years have been ones of personal and professional uncertainty. I’ve changed jobs, been unemployed, experienced the trials of the pandemic as a young person, and slowly found structure and even footing within that uncertainty. The last time I saw my grandmother, I was blazingly candid with her about how nervous I was that I wouldn’t find my calling or that I would have trouble moving forward with my life. Despite her short term memory lost and sometimes wandering mind that were part of her declining health, she looked me dead in the eye and told me she believed in me and that regardless of what I did, where I did it, and how long it took me to do it, she was proud to be my grandmother. Her faith in me was the greatest gift she could give me and even at a time when I know she was hurting and needed my support, she couldn’t help but care for me. Kindness was in her bones.
As someone who is fortunate to have experienced relatively little loss in my life, grief is an unfamiliar sensation in my body. But not an unwelcome one. It represents the passage of time and while you grieve for things you have lost, you rarely grieve for things that were not important to you. Grandmom was so important to me.
This grief feels like a doorway. Its trim is ornate and warm colored, offering a feeling of safety and home. Perhaps it was hand-painted by her, a hobby she enjoyed before losing some of her dexterity. The placard next to the door is directive, imparting information and teachings for me about what lies beyond the doorway and how I can survive, and thrive, in it. And while the air on the other side of the threshold is slightly chilly and unfamiliar due to the loss of this steadfast light in my life, I feel the warmth of her in my gut and her expressed belief in me carries the resilience I’ll need against the trials and tribulations ahead. Above all, I feel grateful to have known her, learned from her, and spent time with her as I move from this side of the doorway to the other. In her absence, the world will be slightly less kind, but in reality, the event of her passing simply asks that her family and friends pick up her mantle and carry on living with her kindness in our hearts.
A little bird suggested that I make a playlist of music that makes me think of my grandmother and all that she represents. You can be sure it was the music playing while writing this week’s volume. Here is it and I hope, if anything, you find some new music to fill your life when things get tough.
What’s Worth Knowing
Roger Federer has announced his retirement from tennis following his appearance at the Laver Cup in London later this month. He leaves competitive tennis as one of the best ever. He won 20 major titles and spent 310 weeks at the World No. 1, 237 of those consecutively from 2004-2008. Serena and Federer in the same month? This hurts… Jason Gay summed things up pretty well in this article: Roger Federer Isn’t Going Anywhere.
Serena’s retirement is going well as she participated heavily in New York Fashion Week and made some talk show appearances this past week. In particular, I liked her quote while being interview by Jimmy Fallon on The Tonight Show. Her husband’s response gave me a chuckle. I wonder what Tom Brady would have to say about all this.
I am currently reading Daniel Pink’s The Power of Regret: How Looking Backward Moves Us Forward. I look forward to sharing my thoughts with all of you in the coming weeks. To anyone looking for a light read full of sports action, a strong female character, and a perfectly simmering romance, Carrie Soto is Back by Taylor Jenkins Reid gets my stamp of approval.
Ted Lasso made a resurgence in my family’s group chat this week due to its lighthearted humor and underlying message of curiosity and kindness albeit with couple swear words on the side. On Monday, the show won the Emmy for Best Comedy Series and Brett Goldstein won for best supporting actor in a comedy series. A small taste of the Timbel family group thread:
Give this a watch, it made me chuckle!
Team USA finally won a SailGP regatta this past weekend in St. Tropez at the France SGP event. Skipper Jimmy Spithill is over the moon. The next event is in Spain on next weekend. I’m looking forward to more crazy action like this:
I’ve enjoyed following the 11th Hour Racing Team’s Instagram updates of life onboard during a 48-hour offshore race, the first and last time they will face other competing IMOCA 60s before The Ocean Race in January 2023. The caption is worth reading as it gives an inside look at what it is like onboard these foiling sailboats, especially while going upwind.
Parting shot:
I want to thank you all for making it this far in WNK this week. It is a cathartic experience to share inner thoughts in a public manner but it is particularly meaningful when those thoughts are anything but cheerful. Thank you for making that space and I look forward to our Friday chat next week. Be well and hug your family close.
-Mackenzie “wondering what would go into a Colorado-sourced dish garden” Timbel
I want to share with you my favorite grieving quote from Jane Ormes. “Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow; I am the diamond glints on snow… I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain… When you awaken in the morning hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight, I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die. “
I will hold you and your family close at this time. Sending all my love.
I feel for your loss. I believe grandparents shape our character where as parents coach, guide and keep us from harming ourselves. Grandparents show us beauty and potential possibilities in ourselves. You speak so well with genuine heartfelt memory and loss about your Grandmother.