My grandmother was a force for good and shaped so much of my childhood. She lived with my family for years when I was growing up, and I'd go to bed hearing the sound of her resonant cello practice, muffled through closed bedroom doors. I love this photo of her, in her early 20s, with her cello. The impacts of her rigorous musical training and career have long played an important role in my life.

I lived across the country during the worst of my grandmother's battle with dementia, but I would see her at Christmas and during other trips home, to witness the humorous and heart-warming parts of her declining years (her lack of inhibition, namely—so shocking from a woman so proper and reserved for nearly all her life!) as well as some of the difficult moments. But as her mind deteriorated, so did her other abilities, namely playing her beloved cello and enjoying exercise and an active lifestyle. For as long as I can remember, my sisters and I would join alongside as my grandma did her daily workout videos (famously step aerobics in the 90s), on trips to our local high school to hit tennis balls against the brick walls and practice our serving, and on regular walks around the block.

Although she was freed in a sense from many of the self-imposed constraints of her lifetime (her strict etiquette and expectations, overcompensating in the lengths she took not wanting to inconvenience others—these are a couple things that come to mind), the joys of life that were so freeing and fulfilling for her were no longer within grasp. That, and she rarely recognized the family members and loved ones around her. We would have upbeat conversations with her, but her pronouncements were never fully lucid or sensical.

When my mom called to tell me that her mom had passed away, I was visiting a friend out of the country at the time. My friend was shocked and a little unnerved by my sense of calm, but it was something difficult to explain to those outside my family. While her condition presented logistical challenges as my east coast family members arranged and provided for her continual and day-to-day care, these were sacrifices that any of us were willing to make. But for my grandmother's life to be so diminished surely in her own terms, was what was a challenge for so many of us. Obviously I speak for myself, not having been present and party to her daily routines and tending, but knowing my family members and our extended family's character, I know that my grandmother was always in good hands.

At my grandmother's funeral and memorial service in California, it was a small and intimate gathering of my mom and her brothers, our families, and a very few close family friends. I heard stories and anecdotes that I had never before learned from my Uncle Greg and my Aunt Laura. My Aunt Laura, herself a talented and professionally trained musician, shared so much in that regard with her mother-in-law, and I loved hearing her reminisces from when she first began to know my grandma. My Uncle Greg shared a great story about the range of my grandma's talent, her fiery Rachmaninoff performances belying her inner grit. So much of our emotional reaction and grief was similar in nature, much of it going unspoken but clear in the mutual understanding of the difficult dichotomy of our grandma and mother and mother-in-law's last years on earth.

In addition to time with family, I always love spending time in southern California, where my mom's family lived for decades. It feels like a second home in that so many sights are familiar to me. Below are some photos from the Baywood Apartments, where my grandparents lived when I was just a few years old. I vividly recall going to visit them there, and visits in more recent years always spark hints of remembrance as we walk the tree-lined paths through the apartment community.

My mom took us to Corona del Mar, noting that it was our grandma's favorite beach in Orange County. My Uncle Jeff, Aunt Laura, cousin Rachel, and I took a short hike in the Laguna Canyon Nature Preserve, enjoying the scenery. Aunt Laura showed us a small nature trail near Baywood where my grandma would take us on walks. I had not personally recollected that detail, so I loved having her longtime knowledge of that earlier tradition. At the time, the superbloom in southern California was in full-force (spring 2017), so the wildflowers all over the canyons and hillsides were in full blazing bloom.

Balboa Island and chocolate bananas are another fine family tradition, that we made sure to replicate.

While these photos may seem a little glib or lighthearted for a funeral, I love to think of them in the context of my grandma's love for photos of her family members and grandkids. Her bedroom was always lined with our latest school pictures, pictures from before I could walk and talk, and even photos from my mom's childhood. It felt fitting to fully enjoy time with all my cousins and to take more photos for future memories.

The services were held at a chapel of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Newport Beach. My grandparents were seminary teachers at this building and in this area in the 1970s. The front of the building facing Jamboree boasts a beautiful mosaic illustrating Lehi's vision of the Tree of Life, from the Book of Mormon. Where so much Church architecture nowadays bears all the same hallmarks of mass-produced replications, these elements of character and individuality at this particular building were so amazing.

My parents and aunts and uncles <3

Above and below—photos from our hike in the Laguna Canyon Nature Preserve, including the only naturally occurring freshwater lake in Orange County. The wildflowers on the hillsides were lovely.

Dad's Donuts' hippo cookies on Balboa Island have become something of a tradition in this generation of the family. My sisters and I discovered them years ago and they are the sweetest sugar cookies with a slick layer of glaze and M&Ms for eyes. That Dad's sells both frozen bananas and the beloved hippo cookies means that we can meet all our family's traditional Orange County dessert needs in one stop. (they had bunny hippo cookies for Easter!)

Corona del Mar, my grandma's favorite beach. It's not hard to see why.

Those bright patches of wildflowers continued up and down the California coast—so amazing.

In my Uncle Greg and Aunt Christie's neighborhood, I went for a walk with my cousin's girls and we happened upon the most glorious bougainvillea. It was so lush and in full bloom and those bringht pink bracts—just ah!

an oceanic expanse out the airplane window—Catalina Island on the horizon, punctuated by the sinking sun—I felt luck to nab a window seat.

I'm so grateful for my family, immediate and extended, and the lessons they teach me on the regular about joy and light and love.

Incidentally, these photos are from the last time I was home for Christmas, which was Christmas of 2016. In 2017, I was with my sisters in California, and in 2018, most recently, my family traveled to Spain together over the holiday break. I remain ever-dutiful in my back-blogging (slowly, ticking off my list one-by-one!!!).

Christmas classics on repeat: matching Christmas pajamas, elementary school ornaments, wreath-spotting, holly-dazzling, reading by the Christmas tree, and our family's annual trip upstate to visit family <3 (with a stop-off in Manhattan per old times sake).

While in the city, Emily and I went to a mediterranean restaurant that was very delicious, but whose name I forget entirely. I loved their water carafes—one bottle still, one bottle sparkling; the bottle of sparkling water was marked simply with a blue rubber band around the mouth of the jar. I thought it was such a simple, brilliant detail.

I don't know where Christmas will take me this year, but my Christmasses at home always include some of my favorite traditions and December coziness.

January 2017, our escape to sunny California—this post constitutes part three and the conclusion of this particular sisters roadtrip (parts one and two, ~not chronological, I might add: Coronado/environs, Joshua Tree National Park), documenting our days in Orange County with family and familiar favorite places.

My aunt and uncle have lived in Irvine since my childhood and I have so many vivid memories at their home. My earliest recollection of visiting them there is a family trip to California when I was five; on that occasion, our cousin Jessica gave us a pink princess cape that our aunt had sewn for her. She had outgrown it, and we played outside for hours and the piece became a staple in our costume box upon our return home.

I've had the address memorized since grade school, when my cousin Jessica and I exchanged dozens of letters by mail. I know my way around their neighborhood not quite like the back of my hand, but nearly so. The geography of their subdivision is familiar and comforting.

Indeed, one of my very earliest posts on this blog was of a trip to my cousins' for Thanksgiving. At the time, a freshman in college, I was feeling very alone and adrift as a new college student and struggling to find my place (mainly socially). My mom bought me a plane ticket to California for Thanksgiving and it was one of the best things she could have done (a full-fledged trip back east for the holiday being incredibly costly for a low ROI aka barely any time so as to make the expense worth it). Being in California with people I loved and who love me, was a needed reprieve from the social drama of my freshman year.

As my aunt and uncle prepare to leave their longtime California home to move across the country, a small tiny part of me feels a twinge of sadness for this place that will no longer be what it has always been. Nostalgist that I am, it has been a constant in my life for so long, and a place I will miss dearly (though I'm sure there will be many more trips to California in my future, as there have been in the past).

Now that I've blindsided you with a heavy dose of sentimentality, I'll move on to the specifics of this particular visit.

Obvious highlights of the visit: spending time with these cuties. Our cousin Jessica's daughters are so sweet and doting and we love seeing them. They are such bright, smart, spunky girls, and spending time with them is a delight. We loved time, as always, with our Uncle Greg and Aunt Christie, talking movies, music, tv, and travel.

A VanDerwerken family requisite any time we are in proximity to Orange County: a visit to Balboa Island. My parents held their wedding luncheon at Shanghai Pine Gardens, a Chinese restaurant on the main street there (my friend Alyssa went there at my recommendation and said it was excellent—so now you know! I actually do not love Chinese food, and also hadn't been there since I was in high school, but it is a family favorite so I'm glad the recommendation holds true!). Although we grew up across the country, my grandparents lived with us after they moved from California and they would always make frozen chocolate-covered bananas, which I assumed everyone ate and loved. It wasn't until I was a little older that I connected the dots and realized that chocolate bananas were a Balboa Island staple, which my grandparents had brought east with them.

This generation's favorite Balboa spot is undoubtedly Dad's. We obviously love the frozen bananas, but we possibly love the hippo cookies even more. We've converted many a friend to the joy of Dad's hippo cookies—hippo-shaped sugar cookies with a colorful glaze and M&Ms for eyes. They are the happiest and I love them so much.

Any visit to Balboa, by necessity, includes a stroll to admire the cute bungalows and gardens (okay, okay—and auspicious waterfront Richard-Meier-esque-glass-façaded behemoths).

We also ventured with Jessica to the tower at Laguna's Victoria Beach. It was quite impressive and perhaps my favorite feature was the natural swimming pool constructed near the base—the rocky basin would fill naturally with salt water and the movements of the tide. The little girls played in the sand and we watched tiny sea birds scurry back and forth with the ebbs and flows of lapping waves.

I love the dramatic shifts in the Californian landscape—foggy tree-lined expanses of openness, cliffs dropping off at the edge of the sea, in between, areas brimming with plant life. California, I heart you.