Legacy of Power

I was raised by the strongest and most powerful women. Growing up in a single-parent household was definitely difficult at times. We didn’t have much money, my mom was working and going back to school, and I was constantly either preparing for another surgery or recovering from one.

Even though my mom was the only parent in our home, it never felt like she was alone in raising us because my grandmas were almost always there.

My Grandma Sue was also a single mom who raised both my mom and my uncle until they were teenagers. That’s when she met my Grandma Cherie, and together they started their life in their forties.

Grandma Cherie was an architect, and Grandma Sue was a jack of all trades. When I was growing up, they owned a coffee shop and taught me and my sister valuable life skills: how to operate a cash register, take orders efficiently, ask customers about their day, and even how to wash espresso shot glasses correctly. By the age of six, I was taking orders, ringing customers up, and offering sage life advice while the baristas made drinks.

When they sold their coffee shop, they became process servers. We often joined them on drives across the city, which always made me feel like I was part of a Bond film. As we sat in the car for hours, we learned how to read maps and street signs, blasting Beethoven and conducting out the windows. They taught us never to judge people for their past mistakes and always to treat everyone with kindness and respect.

As I grew into my teenage years, they kept talking about retiring, but they always seemed to find something new to do. Grandma Cherie restarted her architectural business while Grandma Sue stayed home. Once I had my driver’s license, I was at their house nearly every day, sometimes even skipping school to be with them. They never told my mom, though maybe they should have. Instead, they taught me how to do crossword puzzles and keep accurate books for taxes while running a business.

When kids bullied me because of my disabilities or lack of friends, I ran straight to my grandmas. They reminded me of my power and that I was meant for something bigger than high school.

When I moved from Washington to California for college, not even 1,000 miles could stop me from talking to them every day. Each night, as I ate dinner in my tiny dorm room on Hollywood Boulevard, I FaceTimed them. They knew all of my friends and professors by name and kept up with every bit of college drama.

I watched through a screen as Grandma Cherie slowly grew weaker and paler. Soon, I was only talking to Grandma Sue every night. Grandma Cherie was in bed more often and missed our nightly debriefs. She would call me the next morning to apologize and ask about the day before, until one day, that stopped too.

In the days after Grandma Cherie passed, Grandma Sue began to fade as well. Her blue eyes, which once radiated joy, now held grief. Yet even then, her power never wavered.

A few days before Christmas of 2022, Grandma Sue suffered a sudden stroke. When I arrived at the hospital, she was intubated, but she still communicated by wiggling her toes in response to our questions. We played her favorite music, told her favorite stories, and shared our favorite memories as a family. Her toes wiggled when we laughed, told a joke, or played one of her beloved songs. A few hours later, she passed away.

I’ll never forget the feeling in the hospital as we made final decisions. Something heavy and sacred hung in the air. After the paperwork was signed, we stepped outside together, and snow flurries began to fall. To me, it was a sign: she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Before she passed, my sister texted Grandma Sue about missing Grandma Cherie. She wrote back, “No matter where we are, we are connected by our love.”

Now, every time I feel my power slipping through my fingers, I hear her voice repeating those words. And I remember: the power my grandmas carried was not just their own, it was a gift they passed on to me. Their love, their lessons, their resilience, those are my inheritance. That is my power.

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Cassidy Huff is a nationally recognized disability rights advocate, writer, and content creator. As a physically disabled and hard of hearing woman, she brings a unique perspective to her work, centering equity, accessibility, and authentic representation. Cassidy is a best-selling author, public speaker, and the host of a podcast focused on amplifying disabled voices and lived experiences. Her advocacy spans across digital media, education, and entertainment, and her work has been featured in national campaigns and conversations around disability rights. In addition to writing, Cassidy is the director and producer of two original web series highlighting adaptive adventures and the disability community. She uses her platform to inform, empower, and shift narratives—whether through writing, long-form, short-form content, or public speaking. 

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