This past weekend, my family gathered in Massachusetts to celebrate my grandmother’s life. We called her “Narny.”
She passed away in the fall, just weeks before what would have been her 70th wedding anniversary. As stories made their way around the room this weekend, I found myself thinking less about the dates that define a life and more about the qualities that make someone unforgettable.
Narny had those qualities in abundance.
She was born to very young teenage parents and became a teenage mother herself. Life asked a lot of her early on, yet she met it with remarkable curiosity instead of bitterness. She was fascinated by people— how they thought, why they behaved the way they did, what made them who they were. As a child, she quietly observed her parents and her two brothers, always watching, always learning. Ironically, all three siblings would eventually work in mental health institutions. It somehow seemed fitting.
With four children at home, Narny went back to school in her thirties to become a nurse. She believed just about everyone could benefit from some kind of medication. I couldn’t help but laugh thinking, “I wonder what she would have thought about yoga?” My guess is she would have had a lot of questions, and probably some opinions.
She was endlessly creative. She made nearly all of her own clothes and hand-painted many of them. She designed bold jewelry that looked like wearable art. She was always making something with her hands. I still adore many of the necklaces she made, and every time I wear one, it feels like carrying a little piece of her spirit with me.
She never believed in blending in.
One of my favorite family stories is that she encouraged my dad to wear flowered bell-bottom pants on his very first day of first grade because, in her words, “It will make you stand out.”
Needless to say… it did.
But perhaps what made people love her most wasn’t her creativity. It was the way she made people feel.
You could tell Narny absolutely anything without fear of being judged. She listened deeply, spoke honestly, and somehow always seemed to know exactly what needed to be said. Compassion wasn’t something she practiced occasionally. It was simply who she was.
This weekend I also learned something I had never known.
My grandmother’s great-grandfather had been essentially disowned for marrying a Catholic woman. He was Jewish, and because of that marriage, he became separated from his siblings. An entire branch of the family disappeared for generations.
Years later, Narny happened to notice a familiar surname in an obituary. Instead of wondering, she reached out. That one act of curiosity reunited an entire side of our family. Today, those relatives remain incredibly close because she refused to let an old division stay divided.
That story feels especially meaningful right now.
How many people spend their lives trying to fit into someone else’s expectations? How many families carry old hurts long after anyone remembers why they began? And how often do we silence the very parts of ourselves that make us unique?
Narny never seemed interested in living someone else’s version of life. She created boldly, cared deeply, listened without judgment, and wasn’t afraid to stand out. Maybe that’s why people felt so safe around her. She never seemed to need anyone else’s permission to be herself, and somehow that gave everyone around her permission to be themselves, too.
If there’s one thing I hope to carry forward from her life, it’s that. To live honestly. To stay curious. To create often. To listen without judgment. And whenever possible, to be someone who builds bridges instead of walls.
Her spirit lives on— not only in the jewelry, but in the way she taught all of us that being unapologetically yourself may be the greatest gift you can leave behind.
If you’re looking for a place to reconnect with yourself, slow down, and practice living with a little more intention, we’d love to welcome you at Ocean Bliss Yoga. Our doors are always open, come exactly as you are. Website: oceanblissyoga.net / Phone: 917-318-1168
