Remembering Grandma Pearl
Some lives are loud in all the best ways.
Some lives feel steady, rooted, and quietly powerful.
Grandma Pearl somehow managed to be both.
Her passing came far too quickly. She began feeling unwell around Thanksgiving. By Christmas, the diagnosis came—aggressive cancer. And just one month later, she was gone. It still feels unreal to write those words.
But what is very real is the legacy she leaves behind.
For our kids, visits from Grandma Pearl were something sacred in their own right. They meant homemade breakfasts in the morning—the kind that made us gather at the table. They meant laughing late into the night, goofing off without watching the clock. They meant hikes, little adventures, and of course, trips to the dollar store that somehow felt like treasure hunts every single time.
Grandma Pearl had a gift: she never met a stranger she didn’t want to talk to. A quick errand could turn into a half-hour conversation. She listened fully. She noticed people. She made space wherever she went.
Her faith was the quiet anchor of her life. She was a devoted follower of Jesus Christ, faithfully attending Mass every day at her Catholic church in Pierre. Her faith wasn’t flashy—it was practiced. Lived. Worn gently, like well-used hands.
She also carried a deep love for her country and a profound pride in her Native American heritage. Those pieces of who she was were never in competition—they coexisted beautifully, woven into the way she understood history, family, and belonging.
One of the most sacred moments our family shared came near the end. As the boys gathered around the phone to say their goodbyes, Grandma Pearl spoke to them with clarity and love. “Be good,” she said. “Love one another.” When one of them began to cry, she gently reminded him, “It’s okay. Grandma’s okay.”
At one point, she looked off camera and asked, “Did you ask the question?”
She had asked me to sing “How Great Thou Art” at her celebration of life. I told her what an honor that would be. There aren’t many words for moments like that—only that it felt holy.
This slideshow is a small offering of remembrance. A way of saying thank you. A way of holding onto laughter, faith, love, and the steady presence of a woman who shaped our children more than she may have ever realized.
Grandma Pearl—thank you for the breakfasts, the adventures, the conversations, the faith you lived out so faithfully, and the love you poured so freely.
You are deeply missed.
And deeply cherished. 🤍