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.

Upstate New York is one of my favorite places in the world. I have spent a significant amount of my life there and it is the backdrop for many of my favorite childhood adventures. My family goes up every year around Christmastime to visit family, but I hadn't been back in the summer in 6 years.

This summer we had a family reunion in New York, and it's one of the larger ones we've had in recent years. It was so fun to see many of my cousins, who live all over the country (San Francisco, Las Vegas, Arkansas, Idaho, New York, North Carolina, just to name a few places!), bring their own kids to the farm! More than once I had young cousins approach me and ask me to chaperone their frog-catching escapades at the pond or their excursion to the four-story treehouse (I declined frog-catching, content to read my book on the porch, despite these children's assumption that I "[wasn't] doing anything"). 

My own 'dear photograph' at the farm. 

In true VanDerwerken sister fashion, my sisters and I all showed up to our family reunion in stripes and matching burgundy nail polish. Hence, a matching photo for posterity.

Lest you think the farmhouse backdrop and barn setting too idyllic, as my aunt and I set up tablecloths on the picnic tables in the barn, we had to artfully hide the mouse-eaten holes—in storage with other pumpkin patch gear, mice had chewed through the entire roll of gingham vinyl tablecloths! No surprises there.

celebrating my Grandma's 88th birthday!

what front porches were made for

Playing one of many rounds of the game "Bezzerwizzer," which I though was arguably the weirdest name, until I learned of the origin of its name: it's from the German word besserwisser, or "know-it-all." I did have some qualms with the game, as many questions were poorly written and led to heated arguments over the validity of answers. This would probably have happened regardless in a VanDerwerken crowd.

My dad brought prints of family photographs and I helped hang them in the barn. I love my grandmother's wedding portrait so so much and we miss Grandpa V. 

My Aunt Angela was the reunion planner extraordinaire! I love our reunion shirts (which feature the NY hometown and the Yankees, where most of the upstate family's baseball loyalties lie). The first afternoon of the reunion, Angela planned a scavenger hunt, complete with limerick clues à la Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me, which took us in groups to well-known spots around town. It was also a brilliant excuse to let everyone while away an afternoon in an air-conditioned car. I was in the all-girl group (sporting our pink bandanas with pride) with Aunts Angela and Cindy, my cousin Amanda, and cousin-in-law Hannah. We did yoga poses in front of one of the stops (the Flood Evacuation Route sign on Prospect and Main) in honor of the yoga class Angela taught the following morning on the front lawn at the farm—shoulder stands and an obligatory plow pose, also a nod to the farm. I love the BARN SALE sign behind us—quintessential upstate NY.

the view from the covered bridge overlooks the old Tory Tavern (which was another stop on our scavenger hunt; also speaking of Tories...)

Right by this covered bridge, there is an area that the local Kiwanis Club made into a park following Hurricane Irene, which caused devastating flooding through the valley, including at the farm. The path leading through the park is lined with wild tiger lilies which have been transplanted there (they grow everywhere on the side of the road). Part of our scavenger hunt was to go and pull weeds for 10 minutes, as much of the path farther down was overgrown. I saved some stinging nettle leaves (yay for foraging adventures!) with the intent to try making some nettle soup, but with all the commotion of the reunion, I didn't end up making any. That's still on my list to try someday!

Another item on the list: go to Amy's and order a large (we shared it).

When I was a kid, in the summer or fall we would go pick berries or apples, respectively, at a nearby farm. I was so excited to pick blueberries, but a late frost killed the berry crop. Luckily, we could still pick some raspberries. I love the photo below with William barely visible through the berry bushes.

Fireflies, fiery sunsets, and an epic game of capture the flag as an homage to old times. Playing with my cousins and their kids was so fun; the cousins' kids were so excited and it was so fun to pass on this tradition.

This post is long and a little scattered, but deservedly so, as this was one of my favorite trips of the summer. This area of New York is very dear to me, and I hope some of these photographs and stories can capture the essence of this special place.