My Nan

I've had a day to start processing the loss of my grandmother or as we knew her, Nana. It's not been an easy day. Odd moments of remembering and crying. Memories flashing in and out of my mind, bringing smiles and then more tears. I'm not going to lie to you - this is horrible. I miss her. There's another hole in my heart and I know it's never going to fill in. I've been down this road before. She was the most influential woman in my life. I can't even imagine life without her.

But I refuse to grieve and instead, I'm choosing to celebrate. I'm going to celebrate her long life. She lived 101 years. She saw some pretty spectacular things - the birth of the automobile, the airplane, electricity, telephones, rockets that made it to the moon! Good golly, what a life she had.

I'm going to celebrate her family and upbringing. She came from a large family and loved to share stories about her childhood. Lots of older brothers and sisters around to play with and laugh with and learn from while growing up. She shared close relationships with her sisters and I used to love watching them together. These were some seriously crazy women! They would sit and talk and laugh and speak pig latin, especially when they didn't want us kids to know what they were talking about. When she finally taught me how to speak it, I felt so grown up. I was now part of the secret club they belonged to. I still use it every now and then with my sisters and I always think of her and her sisters. Sisterhood. Something I learned from watching Nan. 

I'm going to celebrate her married life. She had a wonderful marriage to a wonderful man and together they raised four remarkable children. My dad and his siblings will tell you she was a determined woman that helped them all get through school and earn full scholarships to college. She wasn't fooling around - her kids were going to go places. And they did. They raised a daughter who worked for the military and three sons who became engineers. Later in his career, my dad collaborated with NASA after the Challenger shuttle explosion to help work that problem. They are all smart people and they got that from their parents. 

I'm going to celebrate her independence. She lived during times when most women didn't work outside the home. Not my Nana. She told me she wanted to work and decided to go get a job - without telling my grandfather. He did find out eventually and she worked steadily after that. Sometimes it's better to ask forgiveness than beg permission. Something else I learned from Nan. One of the best jobs she had, at least as far as this granddaughter was concerned, was her job at the cookie factory. How many kids can say their grandmother worked in a COOKIE FACTORY? This kid! She used to bring home all kinds of cookies and crackers. It was like a fairy tale.

I'm going to celebrate her playfulness. She would spend hours and hours playing cards with us. And later on, with her great-grandchildren. If you have children, you'll understand just how long they can play - a loooooong time! Pig in the well, Go Fish, clock solitaire, Rummy. Boy, did I love playing cards with her. But my favorite thing to play was Pokeno. She would pull out her jug of pennies and we would play for those. She always let us keep what we won. And she never let us win. If we won, we had to do it fair and square. We tried harder because of that. Something else I learned from her.

I'm going to celebrate her selflessness. She always put others first. She would spend hours and hours in the pool with us. Making whirlpools and playing volleyball with her giant beach ball. In and out of the pool, jumping and splashing. She was great fun. 

She even made shopping fun. When you're a kid, shopping is not fun unless it's toy shopping. Every Saturday we were with her, she and my aunt would go downtown and shop. My sister and I always tagged along - we just wanted to be with her. My aunt would drag us around shopping for clothes and shoes and makeup. Boring. But at the end of the day, Nan always made sure we stopped at the five and dime and picked out a toy or book or stationery, whatever we wanted. Gosh, she was great.

I'm going to celebrate her love of food and home cooking. She made the best apple pie, the best Thanksgiving stuffing, and the best fried dough. Or as we call them, fritters. I spent many mornings with her, helping her stretch the dough and learning how to do it JUST RIGHT. I still make fritters for my family now, though not as often as she did. Nothing says "Nana" to me more than the taste of fritters spread with melted butter and maybe some cinnamon sugar. 

I'm going to celebrate her handwork skills. That woman could crochet anything. And she did. We were kept warm in hats and mittens. Scarves. Afghans. She made us Christmas stockings, which we still use. And my tree is decorated with a handmade tree skirt from Nan. She passed along those skills, teaching me how to crochet when I was a young girl. I would sit next to her, snuggled up, and watch her wrap the yarn again and again. Over and pull through. Over and pull through. She was so patient. That is something I need to learn from her.

I'm going to celebrate her laughter, her sense of humor and her love of a good story. She was witty, sarcastic, funny, and loved to laugh. I'm happy to say I got my love of laughter from her. I don't think I ever had a conversation with her that didn't include a few good belly laughs. She loved to tell a story and she loved to hear stories. One of my favorite stories happened when she spent a week with me after I had one of my babies.

I was making something for dinner that involved pan frying. As in three inches of oil in the pan and drop the food in to fry it up. I started heating the oil and noticed that I needed a new dishtowel since the old one was wet and unusable. I walked away from the oil to get a towel and by the time I got back, the frying pan was on fire and the kitchen was filling with smoke. I ran to get the fire extinguisher and was able to put the fire out without too much damage. But there was so much smoke in the house we couldn't stay inside.

So me and Nan and the two kids went outside to sit on the back porch while we waited for the smoke to clear out. I asked her, "Why didn't you tell me how fast the oil could burn?" And she said, "I thought you knew what you were doing." She wasn't taking the hit for this one. The Man eventually pulled in the driveway and saw us all sitting outside. He took one look at us and held up his hand, saying "Don't say a word." He walked in the house, got himself a beer out of the refrigerator and came back outside. He opened the bottle and said, "Okay. Now tell me what the heck happened!" Nan burst out laughing and we all enjoyed a good story while telling the Man what happened.

Nan and two of her boys. We spent a lot of summers at the beach with her. She would bring her inner tube and float in the water for hours while we played around her.

The whole family. Quite a legacy she and Gramps created.

These four pics are from her 100th birthday we had at my house last year. She had a larger one with extended family but this was a small, intimate party for our immediate family. It was a great day filled with love and smiles and happiness and hugs and kisses. And it was a good chance to take a lot of photos with her. She was gracious and patient and really got into the spirit of the day, smiling and laughing and hamming it up.

I'm going to celebrate her hair. That sounds funny, doesn't it? But my grandmother refused to let her hair gray and colored it until the day she died. My sisters and I took her for hair appointments the last five or six summers that she spent nearby. We would take her to her hair appointment and then we'd treat her to lunch. She had a favorite lunch spot and always got chicken salad, onion rings and Sprite. We had the same waitress every time and she never had to ask what Nan wanted. It was always the same.

Several times after lunch, we would go for a drive and stop for ice cream somewhere. It was a chance to make the day last longer. I treasure those days now.

My grandparents. Love their laughter in this pic.

One of the few times I ever saw her cry in public. We were celebrating her birthday and she got overwhelmed. There was so much love around it was too much.

One of the last times I saw her, I had to wear a mask and gloves and a gown around her. I stopped in to visit and started talking to her. I don't think she recognized me with the mask on and the more I talked with her, the more obvious it became that she didn't know who I was. She thought I was a nurse. I lifted the mask so she could see me and her whole face lit up with a smile. "My Cheryl! It's my Cheryl!" And she held her arms out for a hug. I hugged her and we both started laughing and I thought to myself, "Yes, it's your Cheryl. I'll always be your Cheryl."

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So today I refuse to be sad. Instead, I choose to celebrate and remember all the good things that came from this remarkable, incomparable one-of-a-kind woman.

My Nan.