Wrangler Dani

(The following is what I wrote for the online obituary. Thanks to everyone for the love and prayers!)

I was digging through my Grandma’s closet, looking for something or other. She hovered protectively over me, monitoring everything I moved or fingered, ready with warnings and stories for me. I discovered a pair of maracas in the bottom of a shopping bag and wagged them playfully at her. “Where’d you get these?” I asked, expecting to hear that it was Fiesta night at the hotel in Vegas one time and she, a true child of the Depression, just brought them home because you never know when you might need a South American noise-maker.

“Cuba,” she answered matter-of-factly, breaking into her signature wily grin as she saw my shocked face.

I drew the story out of her, and she told it as she told every story from her incredible life, as though I was crazy to think her courageous or unusual in any way – didn’t all single young women, in braces and toting crutches, no less, travel to Cuba with a girlfriend, ready for fun?

To Lucille Platfoot Pratt, overcoming, courageously stepping out and embracing her life whole-heartedly was not unusual. She lived courageously, not letting anything or anyone tell her otherwise (except for Marvin, her loving husband, of course – but we all know he had his hands full). She was a hard truth-teller, a shrewd observer and a sneaky humorist, breaking into boisterious family jokes with her sly wit. She had a college degree and a high-paying job when such a thing was very unusual for a woman, she traveled all over before moving from Ohio to California to marry, she had four children and selflessly stayed home to care for them.

She took her devotion to God and the church seriously, and she made her beliefs known to anyone who knew her. She loved the traditions and standards of Catholicism, the way that it spoke to her heart and guided her life.

To her family, she was an impeccable housekeeper, a selfless giver of advice, always eager and ready to chat with her brothers, husband, children and eventually grandchildren. She kept track of everyone’s birthdays, babies and anniversaries, and loved to shop (on sale, of course) for special items for everyone in her life.

She left us a legacy of quiet courage – the kind of daily, hourly courage that so often goes unnoticed, that she herself would not have thought anything of – but that shapes us in her wake and created the strong family unit that she leaves behind. She left us with the ringing of her sly chuckle in our ears, the way she patted us lovingly on the back after a hug. We realize now what an amazing woman she was, how incredible her nonchalantly-told stories really were, what an absolutely unusual, faithful, beautiful life she lived.

We know that she and Marvin are walking hand in hand together now, and we rejoice at the years they gave us – the family they created together and the legacy they left us. They taught us, their children and grandchildren, how to face adversity, overcome any obstacle, succeed in the face of all odds, laugh through it all, remain faithful even in small things and raise a glass to celebrate life.