Saturday, August 3, 2019
August 3, 2019
Remembering Maya,
In 2013, I traveled to Salt Lake City, to research the life of Maya’s great-grandfather Tike Miller. Maya’s mother Jessica had vast volumes of family history and I spent four days going through the archive which was kept in an adjacent house to Jessica and Maya. I was a research guest of sorts and was offered the use of the home and its archives. This was my first meeting with Jessica and I will always remember meeting Maya.
Jessica and Maya came to meet me at the house one afternoon. They were in the process of moving stuff from the archive house to their new home. Maya showed me some of her art work and it was most impressive. I asked about her wolf drawing and as she spoke, I was swept into the realization that she displayed the artful talent, free spirit and creative genius of her predecessors whom I had researched for years. Here they were, great grandparents, her grandma Gay, great uncles, and yes her mom too. The Miller clan, whom I had visited through their history, all displayed in the personification of this brilliant thirteen-year-old named Maya. I confess to being smitten.
In appreciation of her mom’s hospitality, I invited them to a restaurant for supper. When Jessica arrived to pick me up, Maya swept in soon after. In quick note she told her mom the events of the day and her plan to go to town the next day. I watched in amazement, this was not mother and daughter; this was a conversation between two women. Jessica said, ‘How will you get there?” “I’ll take a bus, and walk the rest of the way.” Maya replied. I expected the motherly comment, “Well honey, you know… Maybe you should... but there was none. When I asked Jessica about it, she made it clear to me that Maya knew her way and was strong willed and determined. I should have known better. Once again, it is all written in her family history, including her mom.
At the restaurant, I found myself on my toes to keep a-pace with the quick wit of a bright mom and spontaneous retorts of her charming daughter. I fascinated of being a long distance grandpa. Maya really got to me.
News of her accident reached me through her aunt Jody. I am profoundly saddend at her passing. Many years ago, Cheryl and I lost an adult son, Billy. Children are supposed to outlive their parents. It’s not supposed to be this way. With time though, the pain does ease. We learn to laugh and love once more. And the loss, though it is forever, mellows in degrees.
Words fall short of expression. I offer sincerest condolences to Jessica and Maya’s family during this sorrowful time.
Ken Glennon
South Bend, Indiana
