the impossible poem

I was going to keep this topic on our discord (which I won’t promote. If you wanna join us, figure out how to find us), but I was once told- immortality is only as real as someone who remembers you. My grandmother Judy personifies that quote.

A mother of two, Jeff and Kim, she was a golfer, a Bible enthusiast, and a gambler. I call her a gambler… cause that’s what she was. If she were still around, she’d probably debate that point with me. But I knew her. She only played games she knew she could outsmart- that’s not gambling. And I bet that distinction kept her as best friends with Jesus. She knew how to cover all the outs.

The image above is the only picture available of her online that I could find. I was going to add more but then I was reminded of Forrest Fenn. My grandmother was born 5 years after him, and after all my research into Forrest, I can tell you they’re the same kindred spirit. However I think my gram would mop the floor with fenn in cards. They’d probably both laugh at the idea of one picture available in 2022. The thing is… the catch that I just understood, was something that has now changed me.

I spent hours upon hours upon hours of research into Forrest. Every statement he ever made- I have scrutinized to oblivion. I quite literally, need to know what his truth was. However, beside my Arizona fire, I ask myself- why the fuck didn’t I do this with my own kin?

Judy passed away on Friday, May 10, 2019. It doesn’t matter what claimed her life. What matters is that she did the claiming. She made hers… friggen hers. And without ever knowing it, she taught me how to play poker. How to read people, how to hide my tells, and most importantly – how to win like someone who already has done it. I get the sense she taught my father the same things.

My grandmother loved golf. I remember visiting her house every summer, and arriving at a luxurious condo up against some golf course she loves to try and teach me on (She also tried to teach me the piano too- didn’t take). My father spread her ashes in Nebraska, where she grew up- in a place she loved like nothing else. Near the 9th hole. We had to sneak onto the golf course to forever make sure she was where she wanted to be. We regret nothing.