Thomas John asked if my grandma liked children, if she was warm. I waffled on that answer. She had eight kids, but according to my mom she wasn't the warmest parent. Her

Thomas John asked if my grandma liked children, if she was warm. I waffled on that answer. She had eight kids, but according to my mom she wasn't the warmest parent. Her relationship with her grandchildren was much different. Thomas John knew she didn't have a formal education and said she was thought of as wise by us. Wise is one way to describe it—she was cranky. We used to call her Crabby Road, like the comic strip, an association she welcomed. But she had her warm moments, with me specifically.

When Thomas John asked if we talked on the phone a lot, I immediately said no. She wasn't much a phone talker, but after our reading I remembered a very specific conversation. Once, while I was away at college, she called me out of the blue. I assumed something was wrong, but it was just a brief checking in conversation. She ended the call and asked if I was dating anybody. She said it didn't matter if it was a woman or man, if they were black, white, yellow, purple or green, all that matters is my happiness. Hearing this from a woman I revered, two years before I came out to her, was important. When I did eventually come out to her, she again asked if I was happy and if so, that's all that matters.