Entry No. 35: Homework From Heaven Part Three
“Grandmothers are a gift not to be taken lightly. So many lose them before they are old enough to know their magic.” - Nikita Gill
In Entry No. 33 I speak about how I am currently feeling called to share the stories and memories of my loved ones who have passed, even if no one ever reads it. This urge came to me in a dream that I woke up from feeling unable to deny the request from the other side.
The following morning I discovered writing that was 10 years old, written by a 16-year-old girl about the very people I was feeling called to write about. 26-year-old me found these writings. I have chosen to incorporate bits of that writing in this piece as I did last week in Entry No. 34 which was written about my grandfather. The excerpts about my grandma are taken from scholarship essays, poems, blog posts, memorial writing, and victim impact statements from one of her murder's parole hearings.
I have signified something that was written by 16-year-old Morgan in a blue font.
I don’t want this entry to be an entire biography about my grandma, but I do want to honor some of my favorite memories and stories of her. The ones that I think should be told.
I understand if this is not your style or if you're not interested in this post. I will see you next week when we are back to our regularly scheduled content. If you want to hear a few stories and memories about a strong and beautiful woman, you have come to the right entry.
My grandmother's name was Betty Lou. She was a hard-working, loyal, selfless, thoughtful, joyous, strong woman. From what I am told she loved Pepsi, her favorite movies were Dirty Dancing and Ghost, she hated her picture being taken, and she would give the shirt off of her back for someone in need. I would like to think I got my empathetic heart from her, although there is a good chance my mother was involved in that too.
As for my experiences with my grandmother, they are all unfortunately after she has passed. My grandmother was murdered three months prior to my birth.
“Life is such a precious gift. I know those words are used unconsciously by many people, but I have come to appreciate this preciousness firsthand. The brevity and frailty of life are most evident to me through tragedy in my own family.
On a beautiful Sunday, my grandmother was called at home and asked to come in to work on her day off to fill in for other staff who did not report to work. Always hardworking and helpful, my grandmother gladly agreed to come to work. That evening, after the restaurant doors were closed and locked, patrons continued to finish their meals as the restaurant staff began the process of cleaning up in preparation for closing. As my grandmother opened a locked storage room door in the kitchen, she was greeted by gunfire which ended her life. This wife, mother, sister, aunt, grandmother, and friend was left to die on a kitchen floor at the very young age of 48. My mother was seven months pregnant with me at the time of my grandmother’s murder.”
Although we never met on this spiritual plane, I know we have spent time together and we have an unexplainable connection.
“While I never was blessed to have met my grandmother in the flesh, we share a deep spiritual connection that I cannot begin to explain. Perhaps it is because my mother and I went through this horrific experience together, even though I had not yet been born.”
Because of her murder, I went to school to study forensic chemistry.
“It was through the hard work and dedication of law enforcement individuals that led them to arrest the three individuals who were responsible for my grandmother’s murder. All my life I have had to witness what victims, specifically my family, must endure even years after the crime. Just as the wounds begin to heal ever so slightly, there is always another hearing, another appeal, another letter from the prison that reopens the wounds and exposes those terribly raw feelings. I have chosen to study Forensic Science not only for my interest in the field on its own merit but also for the influence this very personal reason has had in my life. My hope is to assist other victims of violent crime through my chosen career the way my family has been assisted. By helping others I am able to support them in their healing process during a time of tragedy. In this way, I also honor the memory of my Grandma Betty.”
Although life has a funny way of working things out the way they need to be and not the way that we want them to be (see Entry No. 27 as to why I never got my forensic chemistry degree).
When I was 16 and asked to write a poem about why I chose my major this is what I wrote:
“Many jobs can change a life. Teacher, doctor, husband, and wife. In many ways large or small,
A single role to benefit all. The professional I aspire to be, Has more or less chosen me. While still in my mother’s womb Came a day of mournful gloom. A bullet met her beating heart, And a mortal soul did depart. Murderers they were, all three Who robbed this woman’s life from me.
Now as I am nearly grown I’ll fight the fight that’s not my own. Justice is the truth I seek As victims’ worlds turn darkly bleak. For at the hands of greedy others, We should not lose our blessed mothers.”
I still stand behind that poem today.
When I was 17 one of her murderers was up for parole. Two of the three people involved in her murder were released prior to this parole hearing for the gunman. As I was under 18 at the time I was unable to be there in the room but, I was able to write a statement that was read on my behalf. I have included the words of a 17-year-old freshman in college Morgan below.
“Most people would agree that I have a very bright future ahead of me. But if a life sentence is considered to have been served today, then according to our legal system my life would be considered over today because I was born three months after my grandmother was murdered. If my life was to end today, I will never hold a professional full-time job. I will never get to vote. I will never have more than a provisional driving license. I will never graduate college. I will never see my younger brother graduate high school. I will never get married. I will never start a family. I will never see my parents retire and become grandparents. I will never really get to experience life.”
“The person seated before you received a life sentence. A life sentence for murder should mean that the murderer will remain behind bars until their last breath. Not just 30 years, not eligible for parole after serving only half of the sentence, and no reductions in time for “good behavior” and “demonstrated improvement.” I can’t change the legal system today to more appropriately reflect the crimes committed, but it is my sincerest hope that my words are able to impart even the tiniest glimpse into the nightmare my family must endure. Even if this murderer served the entire 30-year sentence, upon his release from prison he would be the same age my grandmother was when he took her life which is only 48 years old.”
“I am blessed to know who my grandmother was by the wonderful family she raised, the inspiration she provided, and the legacy she bestowed upon those of us left behind. My grandmother was a devoted wife, a loving mother, a proud grandmother, a beloved sister, a cherished friend, and a dedicated employee. In fact, my grandmother wasn’t even scheduled to work at the restaurant the day she was killed. We can’t help but consider the obvious “what if” – what if she chose not to work that day? However, after receiving a call from her employer requesting her to work on her day off, she was more than willing to go in and help out which has always been her nature. She worked very hard throughout her short life to provide the very best she could for her family. The day she was killed was no exception. I am frequently told how much I resemble my grandmother, and for me, that is the greatest compliment I can ever receive. Although I was robbed of the opportunity to know my grandmother in the flesh, my grandmother always has been and forever will be my biggest hero.”
“The pathetic excuse for a human being seated before you today is nobody’s hero, and he never will be. A high school dropout. An individual is too lazy to work so he chose to steal. A coward hiding in a restaurant’s utility closet. A terrorist shooting and killing an innocent woman. Someone who gave no thought to his selfish actions, the consequences, or the effect that it not only had on our family and friends but his family as well. I don’t accept that he could possibly have had enough time to realize the full effect of his actions or enough time to learn how to be a better human being than he was the day he murdered my grandmother. This individual chose to illegally obtain a handgun, load it, aim it, and pull the trigger taking my grandmother’s life and forever changing mine. “
“I vividly remember the day I learned how my grandmother actually died. Until that time I assumed she died peacefully in her sleep. I was in the 5th grade working on a family tree project for school. As I learned about different aspects of our family tree, nothing could have prepared me for the answer I received after asking how my father’s mother died. I collapsed to my knees crying in our dining room that evening at the words my father spoke. My parents had successfully kept the tragic truth from me for my entire life. But when their 10-year-old daughter directly asked, they made the painful decision to reveal the unbelievable truth. They were kind enough to spare me from the details for years, but the literal pain I felt in my chest when I learned my grandmother was murdered is something I will never forget.”
“Each visit to my grandmother’s grave is equally as difficult as the one before it. Somehow it never gets easier to replace the flowers and clean the headstone. Although I pray for peace and comfort for myself and my family, this grief will never end until I am in a grave of my own. Every holiday, every birthday, every celebration, and every major life event is another painful reminder that someone very important from my life is missing. Graduating from high school without my grandmother was extraordinarily difficult and a stark reminder of all the occasions in my life where her absence is felt and forever will be.”
“Thank you for allowing my family to read this statement on my behalf today, a statement which has been writing itself for the past seventeen years. I have thought many times about what I would say to the person who stole my grandmother from me while gravely traumatizing my family. The terrible last moments of her life are forever etched in the hearts and minds of her husband, children, grandchildren, siblings, and friends. This man is in prison today based on intentional choices he made and actions he carried out without regard for human life. My family is here not by choice but forced by the very hand that pulled a trigger multiple times and took an innocent life. The unfortunate reality is that, unlike my grandmother, this murderer has his life, his family, and one day will walk out of this prison with his freedom. We exist in a perpetual state of fear for our own lives and safety. I beg of you to please consider carefully how this man’s intentional and inhumane actions have forever damaged so many lives and brought unspeakable grief to those of us struggling to cope with my grandmother’s senseless murder. His life sentence will end one day. Ours will not.”
I left my victim's impact statement in its entirety minus the part where I described my high school accolades where I was going to college and personal information, for obvious reasons. The rest remains untouched because there is not one word, phrase, feeling, or point I would change in that statement.
I am proud of that writing.
That writing helped to keep a murderer behind bars, where I hope he will remain.
My mom said that when they were cleaning out her closet after the murder they found a box addressed to my parents with a blank card and some baby onesies. She had bought them for my mother's baby shower for me and was never able to give them to her. We still have that box and card unopened to this day.
When I was only a few months old my mom said that toys would find their way into my crib at night. That I would be crying for a toy from my crib, but my parents didn't place it there due to safety reasons. When they would walk into my room in the morning they would find me in the crib curled up with the toy. There were times when my mother actually saw toys airborne and floating in my room. Eventually, this scared her enough that she loaded me up in the car, drove the hour to my grandmother's grave, and spoke to her. She told her that if it was her she appreciated knowing that she was around, but she was scaring her and she was worried for my safety.
It never happened again.
My mom and I joked that it's because one of her favorite movies was Ghost, she learned how to move things around the “right way.”
When I was 14 months old I was with my parents at the mall. It was around valentines day and my mom was taking me to the car to load me into the car seat. As my mom was approaching the car she said two women approached her. She said they asked if I could have a balloon and gave me a big heart balloon that said “We Love You.” My mom says they fussed over me longer than most people would a baby and kept saying how “beautiful I was.” As my mom got me to the car balloon and all she buckled me into my car seat. I looked at her and said, “I see Grandma Betty and Aunt Punkin.”
Aunt Punkin or Punk as she was often called was my Grandma's sister. She passed away unexpectedly and was very young. Less than a few weeks after the final person in my grandmother's murder trial was convicted she passed. Doctors literally said her passing was a result of a broken heart.
Being that it was so recently after both of their deaths, it was still so hard for my family to talk about and it wasn't something that a 14-month-old would have picked up on. My mom said she immediately started crying and knew just who those two visitors with the I love you balloon were. We still have that balloon to this day.
Growing up I would have vivid dreams about her and wake up and draw them. I would be able to draw my grandmother in her uniform, which I obviously had never seen, and to tell my family about things I would have had no way of knowing. I believe my mom has kept some of those drawings.
Children do truly have a connection to the other side that is unparalleled.
Being now that I am planning my wedding and imagining life as a parent her absence feels even greater. It's hard to know all of the moments that we missed out on because of the events that day. My wedding will actually be on the 27th anniversary of her murder. We are hoping to make that day a more joyous one in our family, but it will be a day that I will never forget.
Each year on that day I take time to remember her, share her story, share who she was, and how loved she was. I have for almost ten years now and I will for as long as I am able.
It is hard to sum up the life of someone so special in a few short pages. I tried to keep this post short but there is always so much to say. I wish I had some of my own memories to share about who she was but I was robbed of that opportunity. I am sure there are memories I could share based on stories from my parents and other relatives, but to me, that does not feel as genuine.
When you feel called to do something, you do it, no matter what.
And hey, I am not going to ignore my grandmother or her requests, even from the other side.
Yes, ma'am grandmother ma'am!
If you have grandparents that are still alive, hug them, love them, listen to them. We don't realize how precious their life and time is until we no longer have the luxury of it.
Love you more,
Morgan
Check this out Corner:
The movie Dirty Dancing. Its a classic if you have never seen it and it is just as great the second time around. Drink a Pepsi while you watch it for bonus points.
To Grandma Betty:
I am because you were. I will see you again some day. I love you more than words can express.
XOXO,
Mo
Morgan Conner
is the passionate creator and driving force behind The Modest Journal. At 28 years old, she wears many hats as the owner, founder, CEO, and self-described "resident words girl."
For Morgan, words are more than just communication—they are her love language, her means of storytelling, and a source of inspiration for others. Her blog is a testament to her desire to merge her passions into a single creative outlet, aiming to bring joy and provoke thought through her words.
Whether she's impacting, inspiring, or offering a fresh perspective, Morgan hopes her writing resonates deeply with her audience.
