Grandma Ellen

During the month of November, the Basilica (and the rest of the Catholic Church) remembers all those who have gone before us. Parishioners are invited to bring photos of their beloved dead and place them on the side altars in the church. Last Sunday Maggie and Frank brought a photo of their grandma Ellen. This picture is one of the few ways they have to know their grandmother, who died 10 months before Maggie was born.

The picture is black and white, probably taken in the late 70s or early 80s. I think Tim's uncle Brad took it, I imagine around a holiday. Ellen's hair is up in a bun, and she is wearing little wire glasses. Her smile is genuine, relaxed and happy.

Another picture the kids have to know Ellen by is a snapshot with a date printed on the border: JAN 77. She is sitting on the floor reading a Richard Scarry book to four small children. The kids are in pajamas on sleeping bags. Next to his mom is little Mike, whose "I'm looking for trouble" smile looks just like Frankie! Peeking from behind Ellen is their cousin Katherine, holding a little doll, sweet and shy. Her brother Sean is next to her, casting bright and admiring eyes at his aunt Ellen. Serious faced Matt is in the background with rosy cheeks and round eyes that remind me of my baby Maureen.

Ellen is looking at the camera with a slightly tired expression, like she's just spent the past month baking and wrapping and figuring out where to hide Santa's pack of surprises. And maybe a little bit like "why are you taking my picture right now?!" But she also looks like she is at ease and present. This presence, I've come to learn, is the most important thing we give to kids because it's all they truly want. Ellen shared her presence, and this picture shows that the children in her life were clearly basking in it.