As many of you are aware, we laid my grandmother to rest this past Friday. She had the kindest heart of anyone I’ve known and could make you feel warm and welcome whether it was your first time meeting her or the hundredth. She also had the strongest will of anyone I’ve known. In 1984, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and was given six to twelve months to live. She defied every expectation, fought her battle for 40 years, and never once complained or grew weary until the very end.
When losing someone as special as my grandmother, it’s easy to feel the weight of the world losing a bit of its brightness. But that wasn’t her way. Instead of lingering on loss, she believed in celebrating the time we were fortunate enough to share. I choose to honor her legacy by focusing on how lucky I was to experience her light and how she used it to make the world a better place. Perspective, she taught me, is a powerful tool. It’s what allowed her to defy the odds and build an extraordinary second life as “Nana” after her diagnosis. She gave kindness and compassion so freely and abundantly that it felt like second nature. I aspire to carry that forward in my own life.
In one of our last conversations, she shared a final lesson that she believed to be the most important in life: build memories, cherish them, and share them. This conversation has been at the forefront of my mind, especially this past Saturday during our tournament day. Judging competition after competition, I found myself reflecting on her words. The tournament was alive with emotion—a symphony of highs and lows as competitors experienced victory and defeat, with loved ones there to cheer them on. It was a cauldron of raw, human connection, each moment a memory in the making.
As I watched parents beam with pride, students push themselves beyond their limits, and friends support one another, I thought about how much joy Nana would have found in the day. She wasn’t able to attend many of my tournaments, but when she did, she made sure to let me know how proud she was. For a long time, I thought her pride came from the quality of my performances. But now I understand it was something deeper. She was proud of my willingness to step into the arena, to put myself out there, to share in the thrill of competition with others, and to create meaningful moments and memories. On Saturday, I saw that same spirit everywhere around me. People were present with one another, fully immersed in the passion and support that defined the day.
Her legacy is more than the years she added to her life; it’s the life she added to those years. It’s the love she shared, the resilience she modeled, and the memories she created with everyone who was lucky enough to know her. I hope to honor her by living with that same intentionality—by making kindness my reflex, cherishing every connection, and ensuring that the memories I create with others are ones worth holding onto.
Though she is no longer with us, her light continues to shine in those she touched, in the lives she made better, and in the lessons she imparted. For that, I am endlessly grateful.