circle of life

This is a long overdue post about a woman who is very much missed. We lost Nana in December, and I have to take a few moments to properly remember her before these precious memories start to get a little fuzzy.

I'll start at the end, I guess. Nana was very lucky because she lived independently up until last fall. She had a few illnesses that took their toll, and she ended up living in the health center at Vicars. While she was there, she still was able to go out and kept her sharpness and humor. The week she died, the social worker was sure she was on her way back to her apartment. We had a lovely Thanksgiving with Rick and Deb and kids. Unfortunately, Nana ended up in the ER after a possible mini-stroke (unconfirmed at hospital). She and Rick and Deb came back in high spirits, though, and ate a late dinner. We hung out that weekend. Nana had bought Annie an absolutely ridiculously fun long red dress with matching Russian-esque hat that she wanted Annie to wear but then wasn't sure if she liked. Annie wore her Gator cheerleading outfit and Nana insisted that I take a picture. On Sunday we picked Nana up at the health center after mass, and like we had done so many times before, she took us all out to lunch at Cabana Club. We sat outside and laughed and chatted, and then I kissed her on the cheek, thanked her for lunch, and said good bye.

On Tuesday, with possible pneumonia, Nana went to the hospital and never fully regained consciousness. She was getting better somewhat but she wasn't waking up, wasn't coming back. On Thursday, Dan and my mom lead the difficult decision of taking her off all the machines and bringing her home. And then we waited and prayed and cried. And laughed. Nana had everything planned, prayer she wanted said; how to grieve. I am not sure if Nana knew we were there or not. She did seem especially upset when Annie was in the room the first time, but, of all people, Annie perhaps gets it the easiest. (Nana is in heaven. Heaven is sunny. And cloudy. And very happy. And we miss her.) The Sunday afternoon following the Cabana Club lunch, surrounded by almost 20 family members saying the rosary, Nana took her final breaths. It was very peaceful and special and surreal. I am 30 and I already know how I want to go!

When I had Annie, I had a very definite case of the baby blues, not postpartum depression as it lasted less than 10 days, but a very unfamiliar sadness. With Maren, I feel much better in almost every way, but my baby blues may be manifesting in sadness over Nana. She lived for 89 years, a good, happy, full 89 years, and yet it still seems as though she is gone too soon. While I certainly feel happiness and so, so much gratefulness when I think of Nana, the overwhelming feeling currently is one of sadness. I miss her.

And now for some memories:

• Nana loved her family and loved to know what all her grandchildren were doing. She did the same with our friends. She liked to know what was going on in an unobtrusive and cute way. She would ask questions like "how is so-and-so getting on since marriage?" or "what do you think of her new boyfriend?"


• Strangely as I am not a shopper, I have many fond shopping memories with Nana. (Perhaps she was best as a buffer between my mom and me during nightmarish shopping trips!) We used to go to Jacobson's years ago, and in later years, we looked at shoes and tried to get my mom to wear cuter ones.


• When I lived on Cape Cod and was newly engaged, Nana and my mom and I went wedding dress shopping in Boston. This was before Nana had her hip done (and after she did it, why didn't she do it years before?!) and she was not walking well but was a sport. It didn't fail: we would get to #20 and it would be a restaurant or something and we would look around for the bridal store only to find it...4 stories above the restaurant with no elevator. And up we would go... If you knew Nana a bit, you already understand that this climbing was accomplished with zero complaints and plenty of humor.


• Nana did not share her age. At her 85 birthday party, none of her friends knew that she was turning 85. She was pretty sure that she was going to see her 90th. I was pretty sure too.


• Nana disliked "women's libbers" but was, I would argue, a modern woman at the end of her life. She was very proud of her female grandchildren and the successes they had.


• Nana's best quality was perhaps her humor. She was a funny lady and a strong, steady, happy force. She didn't judge or give her opinions as some people of older generations are inclined to do. She had a way of saying what she wanted to say without you realizing she was calling your idea completely insane!


• Nana was well known for her lovely, proper Boston accent. I hope it is somewhere on tape because it is a voice to remember.


• Nana knew a lot about current events and sports. She even watched SNL.


• And so very many Annie memories... Nana loved Annie and it was truly the greatest gift to see them together because Annie loved her just as much. When Annie was born, Nana drove to the hospital at midnight for her first time driving after her hip replacement. She had also gone to the florist and picked out both blue and pink cards. If Annie was a bit of an unplanned surprise, the best part of the surprise was that Nana got to have a great-grandchild. I got to be part of four generations. She would rock Annie and Annie's hair would come home smelling like Nana. Nana always called her "that darling child!" She fed Annie yogurt and Annie would call for Nana in the yogurt aisle at Publix for months. Then, of course, there was Nana's birthday when Annie looked right into Nana's eyes and said, "Nana!" Can you think of a better gift?


• Nana loved children. She would say, "when I am old and crazy in the health center and I don't know who I am, don't let them bring me dogs. Tell them to bring me babies. "

Here I am with a baby that I was sure Nana was going to meet. Nana would have loved her. I am constantly reminded, in a non-Lion King sort of way, of the circle of life. Nana's life circled in to meet Maren's and remind us that we all live on through each other. It is a bizarre and beautiful contrast to have sat at someone's deathbed less than three months ago and today be looking into the eyes of the smallest of earthly souls.