I lost my grandma in the summer of 2019. I was 42 years old when she died and it was the first time I lost someone that close to me - someone I knew I’d think about and miss every day. I know this makes me a very lucky person. My whole relationship with my grandma was lucky.
I lived in the house next to hers for most of my childhood. Her door was always open to me. She was patient, sensitive, pure of heart. I can’t hear the word ‘kindness’ without picturing her face.
Grandma believed in the real Jesus - the one who visited lepers and fed the poor - in the most straightforward way. She cared for the people around her, and prayed for them constantly. There was nothing complicated about her faith, and nothing to distinguish it from the essence of who she was. For all my wandering and tumult, there was never a time - no matter what state of faith I was in or out of - when it didn’t bring some comfort to know that Grandma was praying for me.
“When I Call” is a song I made out of grief and homesickness for Grandma. It feels a little bit like I climbed out of my own world and crawled into hers for a few bars. I don’t know if I’ll ever record it for a studio release. I’m giving it to you here, as is, because it seems to want the raw treatment, the I-just-woke-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-I’m-missing-my-grandma treatment. I hope you can appreciate the imperfections.
You Don't Answer Anymore