Judith Forgy, wife to Tom, mother to Stephanie and Chris, but to me, she’s my grandma. While not everyone can say one of the most important people in their life was born in Oakland, California, moved to Ottumwa, Iowa, and now resides in Aloha, Oregon, I can.
Uncovering how those places shaped her has forced me to reconsider how I define independence, success, resilience and adulthood.
Growing up in a strict household, where she and her sister Marie were expected to be home by 8 a.m. every Saturday to clean the house, made activities like sleepovers difficult. While she resented the routine at the time, the structure helped shape her belief that discipline and responsibility are key elements of adulthood.
“I hated it. I hated having to be home every Saturday morning to clean the house,” she said.
The stern 8 a.m. cleaning routine frustrated her growing up, and as a parent, she prioritized responsibility by ensuring her kids kept their rooms clean. As a kid, it may seem frustrating to constantly have to clean up after yourself, but looking back, especially since my parents followed the same philosophy, I see how it created structure and expectation, preparing me for the real world.
After graduating from high school, she felt like there were two options: go to college or get married. Forgy aspired to become a nurse, but when her parents were unwilling to help pay for the required education, marriage became a more realistic path.
Getting married at such a young age highlights a clear difference between her generation and mine. For her, turning 18 meant moving out and beginning adulthood immediately, whereas today, rising costs of living and education have shifted that expectation, making it more common to stay at home until financial stability is within reach.
Her independence did not disappear as she grew older. It followed her into one of the most difficult moments of her life, where responsibility meant doing everything she could, without being in two places at once.
When her father-in-law was burned in a fire, the uncertainty was compounded by distance, as he was nearly 2,000 miles away in Iowa. While my grandpa traveled to be with him, she was forced to remain in Oregon, caring for my sister and me, because we were still young and my parents worked full-time jobs.
“I felt useless because I couldn’t be two places at one time,” she said.
Despite being reassured she was doing everything she could, the emotional toll led her to speak with a doctor and a counselor because she felt depressed.
Independence matters, but her story shows that it has limits. In moments of uncertainty that lead to larger issues, reaching out for help is not a failure of strength, but an act of self-awareness.
The willingness to speak about depression makes it clear that healing begins with conversation. Asking for help should be treated as normal, rather than shameful.
Hearing her talk about those moments was heavy, but it reminds me how hardships are a part of life. Everyone is similar in one way or another, and my grandma sees aspects of herself and my parents in me.
“You’re a perfectionist like me, and at times you’re more quiet like your dad,” she said. “Sometimes you have your mother’s attitude and are going to get the last word in.”
Wow. Thanks, Grandma. Some traits must run in the family.
“I get it from your grandma. It’s definitely not grandpa,” my mom said.
After moments of struggle and laughter, one thing remained consistent. When things go south, what is something to think of to push through?
“I love you. You guys mean the world to Grandpa and I,” she said.
In a life shaped by independence, resilience, and hardship, she reminded me that love is the backbone holding everything together.
