I appreciate my family and friends every day. Still, when something happens in my life that those who love me know will be hard — I’m still amazed at how truly wonderful they are.
My Grandmother, that most of you know as ‘Nanny’, passed away this morning. Throughout her 98 years, she’s been an inspiration to many. One person I called this morning said, “I’m so sorry for our loss. I was blessed to have known Nanny.”
Since our family owned a local grocery store as my brother, Scott, and I were growing up — we spent a lot of time with Nanny. I can remember how she let us KNOW she wanted us there. When Mom & Dad came to pick us up when the store closed, she would tell us to run, jump in bed and pretend to be asleep just so we could spend the night. She would rock me and sing — even when I was too big to fit in her lap. Froggy Went a Courtin’ and Poor Baby Bat were my favorites. She sang those same songs to my son, Ben.
It’s funny that when I talk to others about Nanny, their memories bring back snippets of the past I’d stored away. Thoughts of her husband of 52 years, (Pap-pa to me and Pop to so many others) and how much she loved him, playing ball with friends in the telephone lot next door to her house, the peanut butter and crackers she would fix for everyone that happened to show up to play for the day, and how she helped us move the furniture out of the dining room so we could use jump ropes to make a boxing ring. I remember that she allowed (encouraged?) me to light firecrackers under Pap-pa’s bed after he went to sleep, and the times she took me to Seymour (a big deal back then for a chick who didn’t get a driver’s license until really late in life) to JC Penney’s for a cool new pair of hip-hugger jeans or a pair of shoes that everyone else had.
When Ben came along and things weren’t working out in my marriage, she told me that it was a poor old hen that couldn’t scratch for one little chicken. She was right, and those simple words have never been forgotten. I also haven’t forgotten that she told me I’d get the ‘lumpuckeroo in my bowels’ if I did things that were bad. I wasn’t sure what that was, but it sounded life threatening.
Although Nanny loved Scott and I — and was the best Grandmother on the planet to us, she barely remembered our names when Ben came along. She and Ben had a special bond, and would often hold hands and share secrets like a couple of teenagers. Their relationship was as special to me as the one I shared with her. Nanny was a remarkable woman, and will certainly be missed by others outside of my small circle of friends and family.
Thanks to all for the calls, thoughts and prayers. (For the record, Verla’s dessert was the awsomest — and Linda’s dinner could earn her a spot on the Food Channel.)