Elizabeth Estelle Grainger, born to Ellen Grainger, arrived earlier than expected September 25, 1977 and fought to survive the hostile environment of this planet ever since. She felt everything, with her whole being. This world proved rough on that class of being. Yet she remained a resolute feeler to the end on April 19, 2023.

Liz ushered each of us into a Neo-Elizabethan Age full of art, literature, music, and renaissance. She was an endlessly witty wordsmith. She used a kaleidoscope of words (and a torrent of emojis) to chronicle her days and to manifest blessing on those around her. Liz had synesthesia for most of her life. This may partly account for the incredibly unique way that only Liz had of describing things:

            I’m wearing chartreuse pants, and I feel [psychologically] as if I am continually screaming while sprinting.” #introvertwardrobeconcerns
#nocalmingbodyinflammationtoday #quickandloudintervaltraining

She once asked me what I thought God’s favorite color is. I don’t remember what I said. My answer is different today: Liz, I think you are God’s favorite color.

As with most only children, all of you were her family, her siblings, and some of you, her children. She was a cherished Aunt Liz to Grant, Aunt E to Isaac and Lillian, and was magically known as “Wizard” to Indy, Nora, and Juliet. She loved children and would create a world of imagination with them. Many of her other little loves had four legs and fur, and she had joint custody and coparented with such elegant grace.

I read a quote this week: “Sometimes miracles are just good people with kind hearts.” She needed a miracle and she was one. She needed a healer and she was one. From Elizabeth’s own writings:

        May we have courage to hold our heads high and treat each other with respect. For we are all wearing invisible crowns. Courage to be loud. Courage
to be silent. Courage to wait. Courage to act. Courage to connect. Courage to sever.

She was a fierce advocate, not only for her own pain, but for the validation of the pain of others. Throughout her journey our Elizabeth was especially brave and collectively incredibly loved. She was grateful for you, for life, for beauty, for empathy, for coffee mugs #themugisjustasimportantasthecoffee, all things furry, and for reprieves in her pain.

While there were numerous medical professionals who were prideful and dismissive in their lack of answers or direction, there were just as many progressive doctors, physical therapists, nurses (thank you especially, Lisa), healers, and hospitality workers (at the NY hotel) who listened, believed, attempted, and loved her really well.

Please join us from 10:30 to 11:30 a.m. on Saturday, May 20, 2023 for Mosaic Elizabeth, a collaborative art project in honor of her life, at the Muse Writers Center located at 2200 Colonial Ave #3, Norfolk, VA 23517. The project will me manageable for all skill levels. After the celebration, you are invited to enjoy food and fellowship at 12:00 p.m. at Orapax Restaurant on Olney Rd in Norfolk. Space at the restaurant is limited to 50 people so please RSVP no later than May 13, 2023 to Corina at 757-214-2778.

“In lieu of flowers,” Elizabeth wrote, “please be your colorful self and reach out to help someone else with your beauty and creative resources.” Liz was a “love your neighbor” focused heart, so start at home and work your way out. Organizations for such benevolence could be The Muse, the EDS Society, Dysautonomia International Inc., an animal shelter (or adopt a friend), Free Spirit Counseling (where her mosaic will be displayed), or aid for trauma work, since so many autoimmune disorders comorbid with trauma.