This is my Nana. She is the first person I ever loved and I dare say she was the very first person that ever loved me. I was given her name and it is something I carry with pride and deep love. I used to wish that I could talk to her, tell her how sorry I was for being such a punk when I was a kid. Late at night she would call to me, come into my room crying that her legs hurt so badly and would I rub them. On most occassions I would do so, but half heartedly. I was so overwhelmed with my own little world I gave too little thought to her. I wanted to tell her how much I love her, how much I miss her, how proud I am to know I come from such an amazing person as her. I wanted to tell her about my days and nights, my grief and joy, even the small, silly things like how much my kids love her favorite recipes.
There is a shade of pink, so dark to be almost red yet blushing like a child in winter, that was her shade and we call it that. My heart sings when one of my children calls out, “Look mom, this sweater is Nana pink.”
Now matter how tight money might be when I was growing up, she always treated herself to Jean Nate splash; not to be selfish, but to remind herself and maybe me that life is not just about toil and somber issues. It’s good to treat yourself well and do little things to remind yourself that you’re special.
She was so strong, able to do anything it seemed. When her doctor told her to quit smoking, she went home and never smoked another one. No patch, no self help group, just a steely determination to do what had to be done. She never once talked about it, never once complain…she just did it.
She was beautiful, both on the inside and the outside. Everyone who knew her or met her described her in a single, unified way, she is a Lady.
I used to wish I could just sit with her, smell her perfume, feel the powder soft touch of her hand…how she would squeeze mine 3 times…it was our silent secret way of telling each other I Love You.
Then one day I Hela wandered in to my life, all shadows and corner curved smiles. It’s been recent and strange, wonderful and awakening for me…this journey with Hela, who’s father first found me and nudged me her way, who in His way maybe wishes I make my way closer to Her than I could ever guess…the first thing she offered to me, was that I didn’t need to wish anymore about talking with my Nana…she was as close as my heart and she could hear me no matter what…it was up to me to start the conversation.
This article was a huge inspiration for this blog post and has got me thinking about to honor my dead each and every day: