The women in my family are all connected by names. We have middles names from previous generations.

Family sitting with photographs at table — Westend61/Getty Images

My grandmother and I share the same initials.
The women in my family are all connected by middle names from previous generations.
We have all been very connected beyond our names, which makes me proud.

My 90-year-old grandmother and I share more than just a profound bond. We share our initials and a middle name. I am Anne Marie and she is Alice Marie, named after one of her mother's eight sisters, Anna Marie.

To explain why my grandmother is so sharp at nearly a century of age is impossible, but one reason could be that she goes through a cognitive practice of naming family members each night before bed, specifically her aunts: Olga Margret, Elsie Meta, Anna Marie, Wanda May, Irene Lucille, Jean Clyde, Helen Dawn, and Shirley Jean.

The women in my family have been named after prior generations

This long line of sisters kicked off what would be names linking generations of women in my family. Elsie Meta, my great grandmother, would have two daughters: Phyllis Anne and Alice Marie. My Great Aunt Phyllis and her husband Jack never had children so full attention was paid solely to me when I'd stay the night at her home in the country. I have memories of sewing together and having tea parties. My grandmother also married a man named Jack, with whom she'd have two lovely daughters of her own — one of which was my mother.

This story could easily turn into a listicle of Anne's and Lou's and Marie's, but behind each one is a life story. The oldest daughter of Alice and Jack was named Anne Marie after the two beloved sisters, Phyllis Anne and Alice Marie. She was a lovely redhead with freckles sprinkled across her face who lived only until the age of 12. When I tell you that my grandmother is one of the sharpest women I know, she is also the strongest, having to endure such heartache and still having so much love left to give her youngest daughter Sally Lou — and to me — her first born granddaughter.

Sally Lou's name was the first to take the maternal side of our family tree and grow another branch: this time taking the name of Jack's mother and sister, both named Mary Louise.

We called the first Mary Louise our Grandma Louise even though she was my great aunt. And my mother not only took part of her name, but a piece of her persona, favoring stylish clothing, bold accessories, and floral perfumes. I have memories of Grandma Louise sitting at her vanity table, slathering Pond's cold cream on her face that could be a mirror image of my own mother today. Her daughter — also named Mary Louise, and we called Aunt Mary Lou slept in a circular royal blue velvet bed with specially-made sheets, drove a powder blue Thunderbird convertible, and donned a bikini into her 60s. Mary Lou had a daughter named Shawn Marie, who would become my mother's cousin and best friend–and like a second mother to me.

My mom took the naming tradition and expanded it to my brother

Sally Lou would name me — her first child and only daughter for her late sister, Anne Marie. Standing at just 4 feet and 10 inches, my mother grew into the sweetest soul anyone could meet. Her hair, a natural auburn not unlike her sister's, has always been dyed blonde, not unlike Aunt Mary Lou. She's shown me what it meant to work hard but love even harder. When my mother married my father, she took on the last name Roderique — and with this a new tradition of naming — this time with her son. My great-great grandfather was John James Roderique, his son James Otis Roderique, my paternal grandfather was James Hamlin Roderique — the exact same as both my dad and brother.

The women in my family take care of each other in old age. My grandmother took care of my great grandmother until she died at the age of 96. I remember Sunday mornings with her, when four generations of us would pile into the car and sit at The Village Inn diner while the rest of the town sat for sermons. My mom now lives with my grandmother, and selflessly ushers her to doctor appointments and the grocery store — or for Friday night margaritas. This is not done out of obligation, but love.

I'm proud to be a part of this long line of women, many of whom are gone but whose names and stories still remain.

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